UNIVERSITY  OF 

II  UNOIS  UBRARt 
AT  URBAN A-CHA^APA^QN 

'^      BOOKSTACKS 


WOODSTOCK;     "^/^^ 

OR  ^  / 


THE  CAVALIER. 


A    TALE   OF    THE   YEAR 


SIXTEEN  HUNDRED  AND  FIFTY-ONE. 


COMPLETE  IN  TWO  VOLU3IES. 


"  He  was  a  perfect  gentle  Knight." 

ChoMcer. 


BY   THE   AUTHOR  OF   "  WAVERLEY,"   &c.    &€. 


-IToL  K, 


WAVERLEY    NOVELS.        37. 


BOSTON  : 

SAMUEL  H.  PARKER,  NO.  164,  WASHINGTON-STREET 

1828. 


Wav«1ey  Press—Boston. 


g^3 


PREFACE. 


It  is  not  my  purpose  to  inform  my  readers  how  the 
manuscripts  of  that  eminent  antiquary,  the  Rev.  J.  A. 
RocHECLiFFE,  D.  D.,  Came  into  my  possession.  There 
are  many  ways  in  which  such  things  happen,  and  it  is 
enough  to  say  they  were  rescued  from  an  unworthy  fate, 
and  that  they  were  honestly  come  by.  As  for  the  authen- 
ticity of  the  anecdotes  which  I  have  gleaned  from  the 
writings  of  this  excellent  person,  and  put  together  with 
my  own  unrivalled  facility,  the  name  of  Doctor  Roche- 
clifFe  will  warrant  accuracy,  wherever  that  name  happens 
to  be  known. 

With  his  history  the  reading  part  of  the  world  are 
well  acquainted  ;  and  we  might  refer  the  tyro  to  honest 
Anthony  a  Wood,  who  looked  up  to  him  as  one  of  the 
pillars  of  High  Church,  and  bestows  on  him  an  exemplary 
character  in  the  Athena  Oxonie7ises,  Miouzh  the  Doctor 
was  educated  at  Cambridge,  England's  other  eye. 

It  is  well  known  that  Doctor  Rochecliife  early  obtain- 
ed preferment  in  the  Church,  on  account  of  the  spirited 
share  which  he  took  in  the  controversy  with  the  Puritans  ; 
and  that  his  work,  entitled  Malleus  Hceresis,  was  consid- 
ered as  a  knock-down  blow  by  all,  except  those  who  re- 
ceived it.  It  was  that  work  which  made  him,  at  the 
early  age  of  thirty,  Rector  of  Woodstock,  and  which  af- 
terwards secured  him  a  place  in  the  Catalogue  of  the 
celebrated  Century  White  ; — and,  worse  than  being 
shown  up  by  that  fanatic,  among  the  catalogues  of  scan- 
dalous and  malignant  priests  admitted  into  benefices  by 
the  prelates,  his  opinions  occasioned  the  loss  of  his  living 
of  Woodstock  by  the  ascendency  of  Presbytery.  He 
was  chaplain,  during  most  part  of  the  Civil  War,  to  Sir 
Henry  Lee's  regiment,  levied  for  the  service  of  King 
Charles  ;  and  it  was  said  he  engaged  more  than  once 
personally  in  the  field.  At  least  it  is  certain  that  Doctor 
RocheclifFe  was  repeatedly  in  great  danger,  as  will  ap- 


IV"  PREFACE. 

pear  from  more  passages  than  one  in  the  following  history, 
which  speaks  of  his  own  exploits,  like  Cffisar,  in  the  third 
person.  I  suspect,,  however,  some  Presbyterian  com- 
mentator has  been  guilty  of  interpolating  two  or  three 
passages.  The  manuscript  was  long  in  possession  of  the 
Everards,  a  distinguished  family  of  that  persuasion. 

During  the  Usurpation,  Doctor  RocheclifFe  was  con- 
stantly engaged  in  one  or  other  of  the  premature  attempts 
at  a  restoration  of  monarchy  ;  and  was  accounted,  for  his 
audacity,  presence  of  mind,  and  depth  of  judgment,  one 
of  the  greatest  undertakers  for  the  King  in  that  busy 
time  ;  with  this  trifling.drawback,  that  the  plots  in  which  - 
he  busied  himself  were  almost  constantly  detected.  Nay, 
it  was  suspected  that  Cromwell  himself  sometimes  con- 
trived to  suggest  to  him  the  intrigues  in  which  he  en- 
gaged, by  which  means  the  wily  Protector  made  experi- 
ments on  the  fidelity  of  doubtful  friends,  and  became  well 
acquainted  with  the  plots  of  declared  enemies,  which  he 
thought  it  more  easy  to  disconcert  and  disappoint  than  to 
punish  severely. 

Upon  the  Restoration,  Doctor  RocheclifFe  regained  his 
living  of  Woodstock,  with  other  church  preferment,  and 
gave  up  polemics  and  political  intrigues  for  philosophy. 
He  was  one  of  the  consutuent  members  of  the  Royal 
Society,  and  was  the  person  through  whom  Charles  re- 
quired of  that  learned  body  solution  of  their  curious 
problem,  "  Why,  if  a  vessel  is  filled  brimful  of  water, 
and  a  large  fish  plunged  into  the  water,  nevertheless  it 
shall  not  overflow  the  pitcher  .f*"  Doctor  Rocheclitfe's 
exposition  of  this  phenomenon  was  the  most  ingenious 
and  instructive  of  four  that  were  given  in  ;  and  it  is  cer- 
tain the  Doctor  must  have  gained  the  honour  of  the  day, 
but  for  the  obstinacy  of  a  plain,  dull,  country  gentleman, 
who  insisted  that  the'  experiment  should  be,  in  the  first 
place,  publicly  tried.  When  this  was  done,  the  event 
showed  it  would  have  been  rather  rash  to  have  adopted 
the  facts  exclusively  on  the  royal  authority  ;  as  the  fish, 
however  curiously  inserted  into  his  native  element,  splash- 
ed the  water  over  the  hall,  and  destroyed  the  credit  of 


PREFACE.  V 

four  Ingenious  essayists,  besides  a  large  Turkey  car- 
pet. 

Doctor  Rochecliffe,  it  would  seem,  died  about  1685, 
leaving  many  papers  behind  him  of  various  kinds,  and, 
above  all,  many  valuable  anecdotes  of  secret  history,  from 
which  the  following  ^lemoirs  have  been  extracted, on  which 
vve  intend  to  say  only  a  few  words  by  way  of  illustration. 

The  existence  of  Rosamond's  Labyrinth,  mentioned 
in  these  pages,  is  attested  by  Drayton  in  the  reign  of 
Queen  Elizabeth. 

"  Rosamond's  Labyrinth,  whose  ruins,  together  with 
her  Well,  being  paved  with  square  stones  in  the  bottom, 
and  also  her  Tower,  from  which  the  Labyrinth  did  run, 
are  yet  remaining,  being  vaults  arched  and  walled  with 
stone  and  brick,  almost  inextricably  wound  within  one 
another,  by  which,  if  at  any  time  her  lodging  were  laid 
about  by  the  Queen,  she  might  easily  avoid  peril  immi- 
nent, and,  if  need  be,  by  secret  issues  take  the  air  abroad, 
many  furlongs  about  Woodstock,  in   Oxfordshire."* 

It  is  highly  probable,  that  a  singular  piece  of  phantas- 
magoria, which  was  certainly  played  ofi  upon  the  Com- 
missioners of  the  Long  Parliament,  who  were  sent  down 
to  dispark  and  destroy  Woodstock,  after  the  death  of 
Charles  L,  was  conducted  by  means  of  the  secret  pas- 
sages and  recesses  in  the  ancient  Labyrinth  of  Rosa- 
mond, around  which  successive  Monarchs  had  erected  a 
Hunting-seat  or  Lodge. 

There  is  a  curious  account  of  the  disturbance  given 
to  those  Honourable  Commissioners,  inserted  by  Doctor 
Plot,  in  his  Natural  History  of  Oxfordshire.  But  as  I 
have  not  the  book  at  hand,  I  can  only  allude  to  the  work 
of  the  celebrated  Glanville  upon  Witches,  who  has  ex- 
tracted it  as  an  highly  accredited  narrative  of  supernat- 
ural dealings.  The  beds  of  the  Commissioners,  and 
their  servants,  were  hoisted  up  till  they  were  almost  in- 
verted, and  then  let  down  again  so  suddenly,  as  to  menace 
them  with  broken  bones.       Unusual  and  horrible  noises 

*  Drayton's  England's  Heroical  EpisUes,  Note  A.  on  the  Epistle/  Rosamond 
to  King  Henry. 


VI  PREFACE. 

disturbed  those  sacrilegious  intromltters  with  royal  pro- 
perty. The  devil,  on  one  occasion,  brought  theni  a 
warming-pan  ;  on  another,  pelted  them  with  stones  and 
horses'  bones.  Tubs  of  water  were  emptied  on  them 
in  their  sleep  ;  and  so  many  other  pranks  of  the  same  na- 
ture played  at  their  expense,  that  they  broke  up  house- 
keeping, and  left  their  intended  spoliation  only  half  com- 
pleted. The  good  sense  of  Doctor  Plot  suspected,  that 
these  feats  were  wrought  by  conspiracy  and  confedera- 
tion, which  Glanville  of  course  endeavours  to  refute  with 
all  his  might  ;  for  it  could  scarce  be  expected,  that  he 
who  believed  in  so  convenient  a  solution  as  that  of  super- 
natural agency,  would  consent  to  relinquish  the  service  of 
a  key,  which  will  answer  any  lock,  however  intricate. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  afterwards  discovered,  that  Doctor 
Plot  was  perfectly  right  ;  and  that  the  only  demon  who 
wrought  all  these  marvels,  was  a  disguised  royalist — a 
fellow  called  Trusty  Joe,  or  some  such  name,  formerly 
in  the  service  of  the  Keeper  of  the  Park,  but  who  engag- 
ed in  that  of  the  Coamiissioners,  on  purpose  to  subject 
them  to  his  persecution.  I  think  I  have  seen  some  ac- 
count of  the  real  state  of  the  transaction,  and  of  the 
machinery  by  which  the  wizard  worked  his  wonders  ;  but 
whether  in  a  book,  or  a  pamphlet,  I  am  uncertain.  I 
remember  one  passage  particularly  to  this  purpose.  The 
Commissioners  having  agreed  to  retain  some  articles  out 
of  the  public  account,  in  order  to  be  divided  among  them- 
selves, had  entered  into  an  indenture  for  ascertaining 
their  share  in  the  peculation,  which  they  hid  in  a  bow- 
pot  for  security.  Now,  when  an  assembly  of  divines, 
aided  by  the  most  strict  religious  characters  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Woodstock,  were  assembled  to  conjure 
down  the  supposed  demon.  Trusty  Joe  had  contrived  a 
fire-work,  which  he  let  oft'  in  the  midst  of  the  exorcism, 
and  which  destroyed  the  bow-pot  ;  and,  to  the  shame 
and  confusion  of  the  Commissioners,  threw  their  secret 
indenture  into  the  midst  of  the  assembled  ghost-seers, 
wlio  became  thus  acquainted  with  their  schemes  of  pe- 
culation. 


PREFACE.  Vll 

It  is,  however,  to  little  purpose  for  me  to  strain  my 
memory  about  ancient  and  imperfect  recollections  con- 
cerning the  particulars  of  these  fantastic  disturbances  at 
Woodstock,  since  Doctor  RocheclifFe's  papers  give  such 
a  much  more  accurate  narrative  than  could  be  obtained 
from  any  account  in  existence  before  their  publication. 
Indeed,  I  might  have  gone  much  more  fully  into  this 
part  of  my  subject,  for  the  materials  are  ample  ; — but, 
to  tell  the  reader  a  secret,  some  friendly  critics  were  of 
opinion  they  made  the  story  hang  on  hand  ;  and  thus  I 
was  prevailed  on  to  be  more  concise  on  the  subject  than 
I  might  otherwise  have  been. 

The  impatient  reader,  perhaps,  is  by  this  time  accusing 
me  of  keeping  the  sun  from  him  with  a  candle.  Were 
the  sunshine  as  bright,  however,  as  it  is  likely  to  prove  ; 
and  the  flambeau,  or  link,  a  dozen  of  times  as  smoky, 
my  friend  must  remain  in  the  inferior  atmosphere  a  min- 
ute longer,  while  I  disclaim  the  idea  of  poaching  on 
another's  manor.  Hawks,  we  say,  in  Scotland,  ought 
not  to  pick  out  hawks'  eyes,  or  tire  upon  each  other's 
quarry  ;  and,  therefore,  if  I  had  known  that,  in  its  date 
and  its  characters,  this  tale  was  like  to  interfere  with  that 
recently  published  by  a  distinguished  contemporary,  I 
should  unquestionably  have  left  Doctor  Rochecliife's 
manuscript  in  peace  for  the  present  season.  But  before  I 
was  aware  of  this  circumstance,  this  little  book  was  half 
through  the  press  ;  and  I  had  only  the  alternative  of 
avoiding  any  intentional  imitation,  by  delaying  a  perusal 
of  the  contemporary  work  in  question.  Some  accidental 
collision  there  must  be,  when  works  of  a  similar  charac- 
ter are  finished  on  the  same  general  system  of  historica. 
manners,  and  the  same  historical  personages  are  intro- 
duced. Of  course,  if  such  have  occurred,  I  shall  be 
probably  the  sufferer.  But  my  intentions  have  been  at 
least  innocent,  since  I  look  on  it  as  one  of  the  advantages 
attending  the  conclusion  of  Woodstock,  that  the  finish- 
ing of  my  own  task  will  permit  me  to  have  the  pleasure 
of  reading  Brambletye-House,  from  which  I  have 
liitherto  conscientiously  abstained. 


WOODSTOCK. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Some  were  for  j^ospel  ministers, 
~  And  some  for  red-coat  seculars, 

As  men  most  fit  t'  hold  forth  the  word, 
And  wield  the  one  and  th'  other  sword. 

Butler's  Hudibras. 

Theiie  is  a  handsome  parish  church  in  the  town  of 
Woodstock, — 1  am  told  so  at  least,  for  I  never  saw  it, 
having  scarce  lime,  when  at  the  place,  to  view  the  mag- 
nificence of  Blenheim,  its  painted  halls,  and  tapestried 
bowers,  and  then  retm-n  in  due  season  to  dine  in  hall  with 

my  learned  friend,  the  provost  of :  being  one   of 

those  occasions  on  which  a  man  wrongs  himself  extreme- 
ly, if  he  lets  his  curiosity  interfere  with  his  punctuality. 
J  had  the  church  accurately  described  to  me,  with  a  view- 
to  this  work  ;  but,  as  I  have  some  reason  to  doubi  v»  heth- 
er  my  informant  had  ever  seen  the  inside  of  it  himself, 
I  will  be  content  to  say  that  it  is  now  a  handsome  edifice, 
most  part  of  which  was  rebuilt  forty  or  fifty  years  since, 
although  it  still  contains  some  arches  of  the  old  chantry, 
founded,  it  is  said,  by  King  John.  But  it  is  to  this  more 
ancient  part  of  the  building  that  my  story  refers. 

Upon  a  morning  in  the  end  of  September,  or  begin- 
ning of  October,  in  the  year  1652,  being  a  day  appoint- 
ed for  a  solemn  thanksgiving  for  the  decisive  victory  tt 
\**  orcesler,  a  respectable  audieiu^e  was  assembled  in  the 
old  chantry,  or  chapel  of  King  John.     The  condition  of 


4  WOODSTOCK. 

the  church  and  character  of  the  audience  both  bore 
witness  to  the  rage  of  civil  war,  and  the  pecuhar  spirit 
of  the  times.  The  sacred  edifice  showed  many  marks 
of  dilapidation.  The  windows,  once  filled  with  stained 
glass,  had  been  dashed  to  pieces  with  pikes  and  muskets, 
as  matters  of  and  pertaining  to  idolatry.  The  carving 
on  the  reading-desk  was  damaged,  and  two  fair  screens 
of  beautiful  sculptured  oak  had  been  destroyed,  for  the 
same  pithy  and  conclusive  reason.  The  high  altar  had 
been  removed,  and  the  gilded  railing,  which  was  once 
around  it,  was  broken  down  and  carried  off.  The  effigies 
of  several  tombs  were  mutilated,  and  now  lay  scattered 
about  the  church. 

Torn  from  their  destined  niche,  unworthy  meed 
Of  knightly  counsel,  or  heroic  deed. 

The  autumn  w^ind  piped  through  empty  aisles,  in  which 
the  remains  of  stakes  and  trevisses  of  rough-hewn  tim- 
ber, as  well  as  a  quantity  of  scattered  hay  and  trampled 
straw,  seemed  to  intimate  that  the  hallowed  precincts  had 
been,  upon  some  late  emergency,  made  the  quarters  of 
a  troop  of  horse. 

The  audience,  like  the  building,  was  abated  in  splen- 
dour. None  of  the  ancient  and  habitual  worshippers 
during  peaceful  times,  were  now  to  be  seen  in  their  carv- 
ed galleries,  with  hands  shadowing  their  brows,  while  com- 
posing their  minds  to  pray  where  their  fathers  had  prayed, 
and  after  the  same  mode  of  worship.  The  eye  of  the 
yeoman  and  peasant  sought  in  vain  the  tall  form  of  old 
Sir  Henry  Lee  of  Ditchley,  as,  wrapped  in  his  laced 
cloak,  and  w^ith  beard  and  whiskers  duly  composed,  he 
moved  slowly  through  the  aisles,  followed  by  the  faithful 
mastiff,  or  blood-bound,  which  in  old  time  had  saved  his 
master  by  his  fidelity,  and  which  regularly  followed  him 
to  church.  Bevis,  indeed,  fell  under  the  proverb  which 
avers,  "  He  is  a  good  dog  which  goes  to  church  ;"  for, 
bating  an  occasional  temptation  to  warble  along  with  the 
accord,  he  behaved  himself  as  decorously  as  any  of  the 
congregation,  and  returned  as  much  edified,  perhaps,  a§ 


WOODSTOCK.  O 

some  of  them.  The  damsels  of  Woodstock  looked  as 
vainly  for  the  laced  cloaks,  jingling  spurs,  slashed  boots, 
and  tall  plumes,  of  the  young  cavaliers  of  this  and  other 
high-born  houses,  moving  through  the  streets  and  the 
church-yard  with  the  careless  ease,  which  indicates  per- 
haps rather  an  overweening  degree  of  self-confidence, 
yet  shows  graceful  when  mingled  with  good-humour  and 
courtesy.  The  good  old  dames,  too,  in  their  white  hoods 
and  black  velvet  gowns — their  daughters,  "  the  cynosure 
of  neighbouring  eyes," — where  were  they  all  now,  who, 
when  they  entered  the  church,  used  to  divide  men's 
thoughts  between  them  and  Heaven  ?  "  But,  ah  !  Alice 
Lee — so  sweet,  so  gentle,  so  condescending  in  thy  love- 
liness— (thus  proceeds  a  contemporary  annalist,  whose 
manuscript  w^e  have  deciphered) — why  is  my  story  to  turn 
upon  thy  fallen  fortunes  ?  and  why  not  rather  to  the  pe- 
riod when,  in  the  very  dismounting  froui  your  palfrey, 
you  attracted  as  many  eyes  as  if  an  a-igel  had  descend- 
ed,— as  many  blessings  as  if  the  benignant  being  had 
come  fraught  with  good  tidings  ?  No  creature  wert  thou 
of  an  idle  romancer's  imagination — no  being  fantastically 
bedizened  with  inconsistent  perfections  ; — thy  merits 
made  me  love  thee  well — and  for  ihy  faults — I  think  they 
made  me  love  thee  better." 

With  the  house  of  Lee  had  disappeared  from,  the  chan- 
try of  King  John  others  of  gentle  blood  and  honoured 
lineage, — Freemantles,  Winkleccmbes,  Drycotts,  Sic.  ; 
for  the  air  thai  blew  over  the  towers  of  Oxford  was 
unfavourable  to  the  growth  of  Puritanism,  which  was 
more  general  in  the  neighbouring  counties.  There  were 
among  the  congregation,  however,  one  or  two  that,  by 
their  habits  and  demeanour,  seemed  country  gentlemen 
of  consideration,  and  there  were  also  present  some  of  the 
notables  of  the  town  of  Woodstock,  cutlers  or  glovers 
chiefly,  whose  skill  in  steel  or  leather  had  raised  them  to 
a  comfortable  livelihood.  These  dignitaries  wore  long 
black  cloaks,  plaited  close  at  the  neck,  and,  like  peaceful 
citizens,  carried  their  Bibles  and  memorandum-books  at 

]*       VOL.    I. 


O  WOODSTOCK. 

their  girdles,  instead  of  knife  or  sword.  This  respecta- 
ble, but  least  numerous  part  of  the  audience,  were  such 
decent  persons  as  had  adopted  the  Presbyterian  form  of 
faith,  renouncing  the  liturgy  and  hierarchy  of  the  Church 
of  England,  and  hving  under  the  tuition  of  the  Rev 
Nehemiah  Holdenough,  much  famed  for  the  length  and 
strength  of  his  powers  of  predication.  With  these  grave 
seniors  sat  their  goodly  dames  in  ruff  and  gorget,  like 
the  portraits  v/hich  in  catalogues  of  paintings  are  design- 
ed "  wife  of  a  burgo-master  ;"  and  their  pretty  daugh- 
ters, whose  study,  like  that  of  Chaucer's  physician,  was 
not  always  in  the  Bible,  but  who  were,  on  the  contrary, 
when  a  glance  could  escape  the  vigilance  of  their  honour- 
ed mothers,  inattentive  themselves,  and  the  cause  of  in- 
attention in  others. 

But,  besides  these  dignified  persons,  there  were  in  the 
church  a  numerous  collection  of  the  lower  orders,  some 
brought  thither  by  curiosity,  but  many  of  them  unwashed 
artificers,  bewildered  in  the  theological  discussions  of  the 
time,  and  of  as  many  various  sects  as  there  are  colours  in 
the  rainbow.  The  presumption  of  these  learned  The- 
bans  being  in  exact  proportion  to  their  ignorance,  the 
last  was  total,  and  the  first  boundless.  Their  behaviour 
in  the  church  was  any  thing  but  reverential  or  edifying. 
Most  of  them  affected  a  cynical  contempt  for  all  that  was 
only  held  sacred  by  human  sanction — the  church  was  to 
these  men  but  a  steeple-house,  the  clergyman,  an  ordi- 
nary person  ;  her  ordinances,  dry  bran  and  sapless  pot- 
tage, unfitted  for  the  spiritualized  palates  of  the  saints, 
and  the  prayer,  an  address  to  Heaven,  to  which  each  ac- 
ceded or  not,  as  in  his  too  critical  judgment  he  conceiv- 
ed fit. 

The  elder  amongst  them  sat  or  lay  on  the  benches,  with 
their  high  steeple-crowned  hats  pulled  over  their  severe 
and  knitted  brows,  waiting  for  the  Presbyterian  parson, 
as  mastiffs  sit  in  dumb  expectation  of  the  bull  that  is  to 
be  brought  to  the  stake.  The  younger  mixed,  some  of 
them,  a  bolder  license  of  manners  with  their  heresies  ; 
they  gazed  round  on  the  women,  yawned,  coughed,  and 


WOODSTOCK.  I 

whispered,  eat  apples,  and  cracked  nuts,  as  if  in  the  gal- 
lery of  a  theatre  ere  the  piece  commences. 

Besides  all  these,  the  congregation  contained  a  few 
soldiers,  some  in  corslets  and  steel  caps,  some  in  buff, 
and  others  in  red  coats.  These  men  of  war  had  their 
bandeliers,  with  ammunition,  slung  round  them,  and  rested 
on  their  pikes  and  muskets.  They,  too,  had  their  pecu- 
liar doctrines  on  the  most  difficult  points  of  religion,  and 
united  the  extravagances  of  enthusiasm  with  the  most  de- 
termined courage  'and  resolution  in  the  field.  The  burgh- 
ers of  Woodstock  looked  on  these  military  saints  with 
no  small  degree  of  awe  ;  for  though  not  often  sulKed 
with  deeds  of  plunder  or  cruelty,  they  had  the  power  of 
both  absolutely  in  their  hands,  and  the  peaceful  citizens 
had  no  ahernative,  save  submission  to  whatever  the  ill- 
regulated  and  enthusiastic  imaginations  of  their  martial 
guides  might  suggest. 

After  some  time  spent  in  waiting  for  him,  Mr.  Hold- 
enough  began  to  walk  up  the  aisles  of  the  chapel,  not  with 
the  slow  and  dignified  carriage  with  which  the  old  Rector 
was  of  yore  wont  to  maintain  the  dignity  of  the  surplicBj 
but  with  a  hasty  step,  like  one  who  arrives  too  late  at  an 
appointment,  and  bustles  forward  to  make  the  best  use  of 
his  time.  He  was  a  tall  thin  man,  with  an  adust  com- 
plexion, and  the  vivacity  of  his  eye  indicated  some  irasci-- 
bility  of  temperament.  His  dr^ss  was  brow^n,  not  black, 
and  over  his  other  vestments  he  wor€,in  honour  of  Calvin, 
a  Geneva  cloak  of  a  blue  colon**,  which  fell  backward 
from  his  shoulders  as  he  posted  on  to  the  pulpit.  His 
grizzled  hair  was  cut  as  short  as  shears  could  perform  the 
feat,  and  covered  with  a  black  siik  skull-cap,  which  stuck 
so  close  to  his  head,  that  the  tv.'o  ears  expanded  from 
under  it  as  if  they  had  been  intended  as  handles  by  which 
to  lift  the  whole  person.  Lloreover  the  w^orthy  divine 
wore  spectacles,  and  a  long  grizzled  peaked  beard,  and 
he  carried  in  his  hand  a  small  pocket-bible  with  silver 
clasps.  Upon  arriving  at  the  pulpit,  he  paused  a  moment 
to  take  breath,  then  began  to  ascend  the  steps  by  two  at 
a  time. 


8  WOODSTOCK. 

But  his  course  was  arrested  by  a  strong  hand,  which 
seized  his  cloak.  It  was  that  of  one  who  had  detached 
himself  from  the  group  of  soldiery.  He  was  a  stout  man 
of  middle  stature,  with  a  quick  eye,  and  a  countenance 
which,  though  plain,  had  yet  an  expression  that  fixed  the 
attention.  His  dress,  though  not  strictly  military,  partook 
of  that  character.  He  wore  large  hose  made  of  calves- 
leather,  and  a  tuck,  as  it  was  then  called,  or  rapier,  of 
tremendous  length,  balanced  on  the  other  side  by  a  dag- 
ger.    The  belt  was  morocco,  garnished  with  pistols. 

The  minister,  thus  intercepted  in  his  duty,  faced  round 
upon  the  party  who  had  seized  him,  and  demanded  in  no 
gentle  tone  the  meaning  of  the  interruption. 

"  Friend,"  quoth  the  intruder,  "  is  it  thy  purpose  to 
hold  forth  to  these  good  people  ?" 

"  Ay,  marry  is  it,"  said  the  clergyman,  "  and  such 
is  my  bounden  duty.  "Voe  to  me  if  1  preach  not  the  gos- 
pel— Prithee,  friend,  lot  me  not  in  my  labour." 

"  Nay,"  said  the  man  of  warlike  mien,  "  I  am  myself 
minded  to  hold  forth  ;  therefore,  do  thou  desist,  or  if 
thou  wilt  do  by  mine  advice,  remain  and  fructify  with 
those  poor  goslings,  to  whom  I  am  presently  about  to  shake 
forth  the  crumbs  of  comfort ablo'  doctrine." 

"  Give  place,  thou  man  of  Satan,"  said  the  priest, 
waxing  wroth,  "  respect  mine  order — my  cloth." 

"  I  see  no  more  to  respect  in  the  cut  of  thy  cloak,  or 
in  the  cloth  of  which  it  is  fashioned,"  said  the  other, 
"  than  thou  didst  in  the  Tishop's  rocket — they  were 
black  and  white,  thou  art  blue  and  brown.  Sleeping 
dogs  every  one  of  you,  lying  down,  loving  to  slumber — 
shepherds  that  starve  the  Hock,  but  will  not  watch  it,  each 
looking  to  his  own  gain — hum." 

Scenes  of  this  indecent  kind  were  so  common  at  the 
time,  that  no  one  thought  of  interfering  ;  the  congrega- 
tion looked  on  in  silence,  ih'3  better  class  scandalized, 
and  the  lower  orders,  some  'aligning,  and  others  bucking 
the  soldier  or  minister  as  their  fancy  dictated.  Meantime 
the  struggle  waxed  fiercer ;  Mr.  Holdenough  clamoured 
for  assistance. 


WOODSTOCK.  y 

"  Mr.  Mayor  of  Woodstock,"  he  exclaimed,  "  wilt 
thou  be  among  those  wicked  magistrates  who  bear  the 
sword  in  vain? — Citizens,  will  you  not  help  your  pastor? 
— Worthy  Aldermen,  will  you  see  me  strangled  on  the 
pulpit  stairs  by  this  man  of  buff  and  Belial  ? — But  lo,  I 
will  overcome  him,  and  cast  his  cords  from  me." 

As  Holdenough  spoke,  he  struggled  to  ascend  the  pulpit 
stairs,  holding  hard  on  the  bannisters.  His  tormentor 
hdd  fast  by  the  skirts  of  the  cloak,  which  went  nigh  to 
the  choking  of  the  wearer,  until,  as  he  spoke  the  words 
last  mentioned,  in  a  half-strangled  voice,  Mr.  Holdenough 
dexterously  slipped  the  string  which  tied  it  round  his 
neck,  so  that  the  garment  suddenly  gave  Way  ;  the  soldier 
fell  backwards  down  the  steps,  and  the  liberated  divine 
skipped  into  his  pulpit,  and  began  to  give  forth  a  psalm 
of  triumph  over  his  prostrate  adversary.  But  a  great 
hubbub  in  the  church  marred  his  triumph,  and  although 
he  and  his  faithful  clerk  continued  to  sing  the  hymn  of 
victory,  their  notes  were  only  heard  by  fits,  like  the 
whistle  of  a  curlew  during  a  gale  of  wind. 

The  cause  of  the  tumult  w^as  as  follows  : — The  IMayor 
was  a  zealous  Presbyterian,  and  witnessed  the  intrusion 
of  the  soldier  witli  great  indignation  from  the  very  begin- 
ning, though  he  hesitated  to  interfere  with  an  armed  man 
while  on  his  legs  and  capable  of  resistance.  But  no 
sooner  did  he  behold  the  champion  of  independency 
sprawling  on  his  back,  with  the  divine's  Geneva  cloak 
fluttering  in  his  hands,  than  the  magistrate  rushed  forward, 
exclaiming  that  such  insolence  was  not  lo  be  endured, 
and  ordered  his  constables  to  seize  the  prostrate  cham- 
pion, proclaiming,  in  the  magnanimity  of  wrath,  "I will 
commit  every  red-coat  of  them  all — I  will  commit  him 
were  he  Noll  Cromwell  himself." 

The  worthy  IMayor's  indignation  had  overmastered  his 
reason  when  he  made  this  mistimed  vaunt ;  for  three 
soldiers,  who  had  hitherto  stood  motionless  like  statues, 
made  each  a  stride  in  advance,  which  placed  them  be- 
twixt the  municipal  officers  and  the  soldier  who  was  in 
the  act  of  arising  ;  then  making  at  once  the  movement 


10  WOODSTOCK. 

of  resting  arms  according  to  the  manual  as  then  practised, 
their  musket-butts  rang  on  the  church  pavement,  within 
an  inch  of  the  gouty  toes  of  Master  Mayor.  The  ener- 
getic magistrate,  whose  efforts  in  favour  of  order  were 
thus  checked,  cast  one  glance  on  his  supporters,  but  that 
was  enough  to  show  him  that  force  was  not  on  his  side. 
All  had  shrunk  back  on  hearing  that  ominous  clatter  of 
stone  and  iron.  He  was  obliged  to  descend  to  expostu- 
lation. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  my  masters  ?"  said  he  ;  "  is  it 
like  a  decent  and  God-fearing  soldiery,  who  have  wrought 
such  things  for  the  land  as  have  never  before  been  heard 
of,  to  brawl  and  riot  in  the  church,  or  to  aid,  abet,  and 
comfort  a  profane  fellow,  who  hath,  upon  a  solemn  thanks- 
giving, excluded  the  minister  from  his  own  pulpit  ?" 

"  We  have  nought  to  do  with  thy  church,  as  thou 
call'st  it,"  said  he  who  by  a  small  feather  in  front  of  his 
morion  appeared  to  be  the  corporal  of  the  party  ;  "  w^e 
see  not  why  men  of  gifts  should  not  be  heard  within 
these  citadels  of  superstition,  as  well  as  the  voice  of  the 
men  of  crape  of  old,  and  the  men  of  cloak  now.  Where- 
fore we  will  pluck  yon  Jack  Presbyter  out  of  his  wooden 
sentinel-box,  and  our  own  watchman  shall  relieve  the 
guard,  and  mount  thereon  and  cry  aloud  and  spare  not."' 

"  Nay,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Mayor,  "  if  such  be  your 
purpose,  we  have  not  the  means  to  withstand  you,  being, 
as  you  see,  peaceful  and  quiet  men — But  let  me  first 
speak  with  this  worthy  minister,  Nehemiah  Holdenough, 
to  persuade  him  to  yield  up  his  place  for  the  time  with- 
out farther  scandal." 

The  peace-making  Mayor  then  interrupted  the  quav- 
ering of  Holdenough  and  the  clerk,  and  prayed  both  to 
retire,  else  there  would,  he  said,  be  certainly  strife. 

"  Strife  ?"  replied  the  Presbyterian  divine,  with  scorn  ; 
"  no  fear  of  strife,  among  men  that  dare  not  testify  against 
this  open  profanation  of  the  church,  and  daring  display  of 
heresy.  Would  your  neighbours  of  Banbury  have  brook- 
ed such  an  insult  f" 


WOODSTOCK.  11 

"  Come,  come,  Mr.  Holdenough,"  said  the  Mayor, 
"  put  us  not  to  mutiny  and  cry  Clubs.  I  tell  you  once 
more,  we  are  not  men  of  war  or  blood." 

"  Not  more  than  may  be  drawn  by  the  point  of  a 
needle,"  said  the  preacher,  scornfully. — "  Ye  tailors  of 
Woodstock, — for  what  is  a  glover  but  a  tailor  working  on 
kidskin  ? — I  forsake  you,  in  scorn  of  your  faint  hearts  and 
feeble  hands,  and  will  seek  me  elsewhere  a  flock  which 
will  not  fly  from  their  shepherd  at  the  braying  of  the  first 
wild  ass  which  comeih  from  out  the  great  desert." 

So  saying,  the  aggrieved  divine  departed  from  his  pul- 
pit, and  shaking  the  dust  from  his  shoes,  left  the  church 
as  hastily  as  he  had  entered  it,  though  for  a  difierent 
reason.  The  citizens  saw  his  retreat  with  sorrow,  and 
not  without  a  compunctious  feeling  as  if  they  were  not' 
playing  the  most  courageous  part  in  the  wofld.  The 
Mayor  himself  and  several  others  left  the  church,  to  fol- 
low and  appease  him. 

The  Independent  orator,  late  prostrate,  was  now^  trium- 
phant, and  inducting  himself  into  the  pulpit  without  far- 
ther ceremony,  he  pulled  a  Bible  from  his  pocket,  and 
selected  his  text  from  the  forty-fifth  psalm, — "  Gird  thy 
sword  upon  thy  thigh,  O  most  mighty,  with  thy  glory  and 
thy  majesty  :  and  in  thy  majesty  ride  prosperously." — 
Upon  this  theme  he  commenced  one  of  those  wild  de- 
clamations common  at  the  period,  in  which  men  were 
accustomed  to  wrest  and  pervert  the  language  of  scrip- 
ture, by  adapting  it  to  modern  events.  The  language 
which,  in  its  literal  sense,  was  applied  to  King  David,  and 
typically  referred  to  the  coming  of  the  Messiah,  was,  in 
the  opinion  of  the  military  orator,  most  properly  to  be 
interpreted  of  Oliver  Cromwell,  the  victorious  general  of 
the  infant  Commonwealth,  which  was  never  destined  to 
come  of  age.  "  Gird  on  thy  sword  !"  exclaimed  the 
preacher  emphatically  ;  "  and  was  not  that  a  pretty  bit 
of  steel  as  ever  dangled  from  a  corslet,  or  rung  against  a 
steel  saddle  f  Ay,  ye  prick  up  your  ears  now,  ye  cutlers 
of  Woodstock,  as  if  ye  should  know  something  of  a  good 
fox  broad-sword — Did  you  forge  it,  I  trow  ^ — was  the 


12  WOODSTOCK. 

Steel  quenched  with  water  from  Rosamond's  well,  or  the 
blade  blessed  by  the  old  cuckoldly-priest  of  Godsiow  ? 
You  would  have  us  think,  I  warrant  me,  that  you  wrought 
it  and  welded  it,  grinded  and  polished  it,  and  all  the  while 
it  never  came  on  a  Woodstock  stithy.  You  were  all 
too  busy  making  whittles  for  the  lazy  crape-men  of  Ox- 
ford, bouncing  priests,  whose  eyes  were  so  closed  up  with 
fat.  that  they  could  not  see  Destruction  till  she  had  them 
by  the  throat.  But  I  can  tell  you  where  the  sword  was 
forged,  and  tempered,  and  welded,  and  grinded,  and  pol- 
ished. When  you  were,  as  1  said  before,  making  whittles 
for  false  priests,  and  daggers  for  dissolute  G — d  d — n-me 
cavahers,  to  cut  the  people  of  England's  throat  with — it 
was  forged  at  Long  Marston  Moor,  where  blows  w^ent 
faster  than  ever  rung  hammer  on  anvil — an  it  was  tem- 
pered at  Naseby,  in  the  best  blood  of  the  cavahers — and 
it  was  welded  in  Ireland  against  the  walls  of  Drogheda 
— and  it  was  grinded  on  Scottish  hves  at  Dunbar — and 
now  of  late  it  w^as  polished  in  Worcester,  till  it  shines  as 
bright  as  the  sun  in  the  middle  heaven,  and  there  is  no 
light  in  England  that  shall  come  nigh  unto  it." 

Here  the  military  part  of  the  congregation  raised  a 
hum  of  approbation,  which  being  a  sound  like  the  "  hear, 
hear,"  of  the  British  House  of  Commons,  was  calculated 
to  heighten  the  enthusiasm  of  the  orator,  by  intimating 
the  sympathy  of  the  audience.  "  And  then,"  resumed 
the  preacher,  rising  in  energy  as  he  found  that  his  audi- 
ence partook  in  these  feelings,  "  what  sayeth  the  text  ^ — 
Ride  on  prosperously — do  not  stop — do  not  call  a  halt — 
do  not  quit  the  saddle — pursue  the  scattered  fliers — 
sound  the  trumpet — not  a  levant  or  a  flourish,  but  a  point 
of  war — sound,  boot  and  saddle — to  horse  and  away — a 
charge  ! — follow  after  the  young  man  ! — what  part  have 
we  in  him  ! — Slay,  take,  destroy,  divide  the  spoil !  Bles- 
sed art  thou,  Oliver,  on  account  of  thine  honour — thy 
cause  is  clear,  thy  call  is  undoubted — never  has  defeat 
come  near  thy  leading  stafl^,  nor  disaster  attended  thy 
banner.  Ride  on,  flower  of  England's  soldiers  !  ride  on, 
chosen  leader  of  God's  champions  !  gird  up  the  loins  of 


WOODSTOCK.  13 

thy  resolution,  and  be  steadfast  to  the  mark  of  thy  high 
calhng  !" 

Another  deep  and  stern  hum,  echoed  by  the  ancient 
embow'd  arches  of  the  old  cliantry,  gave  him  an  opportu- 
nity of  an  instant's  repose  ;  when  the  people  of  Wood- 
stock heard  him,  and  not  without  anxiety,  turn  the  stream 
of  his  oratory  into  anotlier  channel. 

"  But  wherefore,  ye  people  of  Woodstock,  do  I  say 
these  things  to  you,  who  ciuim  no  portion  in  our  David, 
no  interest  in  England's  son  of  Jesse  ! — You,  who  were 
fighting  as  well  as  your  might  could  (and  it  was  not  very 
formidable)  for  the  late  Man,  under  that  old  blood-thirsty 
papist  Sir  Jacob  Aston — are  you  not  now  plotting,  or 
ready  to  plot,  for  restoring,  as  ye  call  it,  of  the  young 
Man,  the  unclean  son  of  the  slaughtered  tyrant — the  fu- 
gitive after  whom  the  true  hearts  of  England  are  now 
following,  that  tliey  may  take  and  slay  him  f — '  Why 
should  your  rider  turn  his  bridle  our  way  f  say  you  in 
your  hearts  ;  '  we  will  none  of  him  ;  if  we  may  help 
ourselves,  we  will  rather  turn  us  to  wallow  in  the  mire  of 
monarchy,  with  the  sow  that  was  washed  but  newly.' 
Come,  men  of  Woodstock,  1  will  ask,  and  do  you  answer 
me.  Hunger  ye  still  after  the  flesh-pots  of  the  monks 
of  Godstow  f  and  ye  will  say,  Nay  ; — but  wherefore, 
except  that  the  pots  are  cracked  and  broken,  and  the  fire 
is  extinguished  wherewith  thy  oven  used  to  boil  ?  And 
again,  I  ask,  drink  ye  still  of  the  well  of  the  fornications 
of  the  fair  Rosamond  ? — ye  will  say  ]\av  ; — but  where- 
fore .?" 

Here  the  orator,  ere  he  could  answer  the  question  in 
his  own  way,  w'as  surprised  by  the  following  reply,  very 
pithily  pronounced  by  one  of  the  congregation  : — "  Be- 
cause you,  and  the  hke  of  you,  have  left  us  no  brandy 
to  mix  with  it." 

All  eyes  turned  to  the  audacious  speaker,  who  stood 
beside  one  of  the  thick  sturdy  Saxon  pillars,  which  he 
himself  somewhat  resembled,  being  short  of'stature,  but 
Tery  strongly   made,  a  squat  broad  Liitle-John   sort  of 

2       VOL.    I. 


14  >VOOD  STOCK. 

figure,  leaning  on  a  quarter -staff,  and  wearing  a  jerkin, 
which,  though  now  sorely  stained  and  discoloured,  had 
once  been  of  tlie  Lincoln  green,  and  sliowed  reninants  of 
having  been  laced.  There  was  an  air  of  careless  good- 
humoured  audacity  about  the  fellow  ;  and,  though  under 
military  restraint,  there  were  some  of  tlie  citizens  who 
could  not  help  crying  out, — "  Well  said,  Joceline  JolifFe." 
"  Jolly  Joceline,  call  ye  him  ?"  proceeded  the  preach- 
er, without  showing  either  confusion  or  displeasure  at 
the  interruption, — "I  will  make  him  Joceline  of  the  jail, 
if  he  interrupts  me  again.  One  of  your  park-keepers,  1 
warrant,  that  can  never  forget  they  have  borne  C.  R.  upon 
their  badges  and  bugle-horns,  even  as  a  dog  bears  his 
owner's  name  on  his  collar — a  pretty  emblem  for  Chris- 
tian men  !  But  the  brute  beast  hath  the  better  of  him, — 
the  brute  weareth  his  own  coat  and  the  caitiff  thrall  wears 
his  master's.  I  have  seen  such  a  wag  make  a  rope's 
end  wag  ere  now. — Where  was  1  ^ — Oh,  rebuking  you 
for  your  backslidings,  men  of  W'oodstock. — Yes,  then  ye 
will  say  ye  have  renounced  Popery,  and  ye  have  renounc- 
ed Prelacy,  and  then  ye  wipe  your  mouth  like  Pharisees 
as  ye  are  :  and  who  but  you  for  purity  of  religion  !  But 
I  tell  you,  ye  are  but  like  Jehu  the  son  of  Nimshi,  who 
broke  down  the  house  of  Baal,  yet  departed  not  from 
the  sons  of  Jeroboam.  Even  so  ye  eat  not  fish  on  Fri- 
day with  the  blinded  Papists,  nor  minced-pies  on  the 
twenty-fifth  day  of  December,  like  the  slothful  Prelatists; 
but  ye  will  gorge  on  sack-posset  each  night  in  the  year 
with  your  blind  Presbyterian  guide,  and  ye  v\ill  speak  evil 
of  dignities,  and  revile  the  Commonwealth  ;  and  ye  will 
glorif|  yourselves  in  your  park  of  Woodstock,  and  say, 
'  Was  it  not  walled  in  first  of  any  other  in  England,  and 
that  by  Henry  son  of  William  called  the  Conqueror.?' 
And  ye  have  a  princely  Lodge  therein,  and  call  the  same  a 
Royal  Lodge  ;  and  ye  have  an  oak  which  ye  call  the 
King's  Oak  ;  and  ye  steal  and  eat  the  venison  of  the 
park  ;  and  ye  say,  '  This  is  the  King's  venison,  we  will 
wash  it  down  with  a  cup  to  the  King's  health — better  we 
eat  it  than  those  round-headed   commonwealth  knaves.' 


AVCOD  STOCK.  15 

But  listen  unto  me,  snd  tnke  warning.  For  these  things 
come  we  to  controversy  with  you.  And  our  name  shall 
be  a  cannon-shot,  before  whicli  your  Lodge,  in  the  pleas- 
antness whereof  ye  take  pastime,  shall  be  blown  into 
ruins  ;  and  we  will  be  as  a  wedge  to  split  asunder  the 
King's  Oak  into  billets  to  heat  a  brown  baker's  oven  ;  and 
we  will  dispark  your  park,  and  slay  your  deer,  and  eat 
them  ourselves,  neither  shall  you  have  any  portion  there- 
of, whether  in  neck  or  haunch.  Ye  shall  not  halt  a  ten- 
penny  knife  with  the  horns  thereof,  neither  shall  ye  cut 
a  pair  of  breeches  out  of  the  hide,  for  all  ye  be  cutlers 
and  glovers  ;  and  ye  shall  have  no  comfort  or  support 
neither  from  the  sequestrated  traitor  Henry  Lee,  who 
called  himself  Ranger  of  Woodstock,  nor  from  any  on 
his  behalf  ;  for  they  are  coming  hither  who  shall  be  call- 
ed Maher-shalal-hashbaz,  because  he  maketh  haste  to  the 
spoil." 

Here  ended  this  wild  effusion,  the  latter  part  of  which 
fell  heavy  on  the  souls  of  the  poor  citizens  of  Wood- 
stock, as  tending  to  confirm  a  report  of  an  unpleasing 
nature  which  had  been  lately  circulated.  The  conmm- 
nication  with  London  was  indeed  slow,  and  the  news 
which  it  transmitted  were  uncertain  ;  no  less  uncertain 
were  the  times  themselves,  and  the  rumours  which  were 
circulated,  exaggerated  by  the  hopes  and  fears  of  so 
many  various  factions.  But  the  general  stream  of 
report,  so  far  as  Woodstock  was  concerned,  had  of  late 
run  uniformly  in  one  direction.  Day  after  day  they  had 
been  informed,  that  the  fatal  fiat  of  Parliament  had  gone 
out  for  selling  the  Park  of  Woodstock,  destroying  its 
lodge,  disparking  its  forest,  and  crazing,  as  far  as  they 
could  be  erazed,  all  traces  of  its  ancient  fame.  Many  of 
the  citizens  were  likely  to  be  sufferers  on  this  occasion, 
as  several  of  them  enjoyed,  either  by  sufferance  or  right, 
various  convenient  privileges  of  pasturage,  cutting  fire- 
wood, and  the  like,  in  the  royal  chase  ;  and  all  the  in- 
habitants of  the  little  borough  were  hurt  to  think,  that 
the  scenery  of  the  place  was  to  be  destroyed,  its  edifices 
ruined,  and  its  honours  rent  away.     This  is  a  pL.iriotlc 


16 


AVOODSTOCK. 


sensation  often  found  in  such  places,  which  ancient  dis- 
tinctions and  lon^-cherished  recollections'of  former  days, 
render  so  different  from  towns  of  recent  date.  The  na- 
tives of  Woodstock  felt  it  in  the  fullest  force.  They  had 
trembled  at  the  anticipated  calamity  ;  but  now,  when  it 
was  announced  by  the  appearance  of  those  dark,  stern, 
and  at  the  same  time  omnipotent  soldiers — now  that  they 
heard  it  proclaimed  by  the  mouth  of  one  of  their  military 
preachers — they  considered  their  fate  as  inevitable. 
The  causes  of  disagreement  among  themselves  were  for 
the  time  forgotten,  as  the  congregation,  dismissed  without 
psalmody  or  benediction,  went  slowly  and  mournfully 
homeward,  each  to  his  own  place  of  abode. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Come  forth,  old  man — Thy  daughter's  side 

Is  now  the  fitting  place  for  thee  : 
When  Time  hath  qucH'd  the  oak's  bold  pride, 
The  youthful  tendril  yet  may  hide 

The  ruins  of  the  parent  tree. 

When  the  sermon  was  ended,  the  military  orator  v/ip- 
ed  his  brow  ;  for,  notwithstanding  the  coolness  of  the 
weather,  be  v»'as  heated  with  the  vehemence  of  his  speech 
and  action.  He  then  descended  from  the  pulpit,  and 
spoke  a  w^ord  or  two  to  the  corporal  who  commanded 
the  party  of  soldiers,  who,  replying  by  a  sober  nod  of 
intelligence,  drew  his  men  together,  and  marched  them 
in  order  to  their  quarters  in  the  town. 

The  preacher  himself,  as  if  nothing  extraordinary  had 
happened,  left  the  church  and  sauntered  through  the 
streets  of  Woodstock,  with  the  air  of  a  stranger  who  was 
viewing  the  town,  without  seeming  to  observe  that  he  was 
himself  in  his  turn  anxiously  surveyed  by  the  citizens, 
whose  furtive  yet  frequent  i^lances  seemed  to  regard  him 


WOODSTOCK. 


17 


as  sometliing  alike  suspected  and  dreadful,  yet  on  no  ac- 
count to  be  provoked.  He  heeded  them  not,  but  stalked 
on  in  the  manner  affected  by  the  distinguished  fanatics 
of  the  day  ;  a  stiff  solemn  pace,  a  severe  and  at  the 
same  time  a  contemplative  look,  like  that  of  a  man  in- 
censed at  the  interruptions  which  earthly  objects  forced 
upon  him,  obliging  him  by  their  intrusion  to  withdraw  his 
thoughts  for  an  instant  from  celestial  things.  Innocent 
pleasures  of  what  kind  soever  they  held  in  suspicion  and 
contempt,  and  innocent  mirth  they  abominated.  It  was, 
how^ever,  a  cast  of  mind  that  formed  men  for  great  and 
manly  action,  as  it  adopted  principle,  and  that  of  an 
unselfish  character,  for  the  ruling  n:jotive,  instead  of  the 
gratification  of  passion.  Some  of  these  men  were  indeed 
hypocrites,  using  the  cloak  of  religion  only  as  a  covering 
for  their  ambition  ;  but  many  really  possessed  the  devo- 
tional character,  and  the  severe  republican  virtue,  which 
others  only  affected.  By  far  the  greater  number  hover- 
ed between  these  extremes,  felt  to  a  certain  extent  the 
power  of  religion,  and  complied  with  the  times  in  affect- 
ing a  great  deal. 

The  individual,  whose  pretensions  to  sanctity,  written 
as  they  were  upon  his  brow  and  gait,  have  given  rise  to 
the  above  digression,  reached  at  length  the  extremiiy  of 
the  principal  street,  which  terminates  upon  the  park  of 
Woodstock.  A  battlemented  portal  of  Gothic  appearance 
defended  the  entrance  to  the  avenue.  It  was  of  mixed 
architecture,  but  on  the  whole,  though  composed  of  the 
styles  of  different  ages,  when  it  had  received  additions, 
had  a  strikii.g  and  imposing  effect.  An  immense  gi'te, 
composed  ol  rails  of  hammered  iron,  with  many  a  flourish 
and  scroll,  displaying  as  its  uppermost  ornament  the  ill- 
fated  cipher  of  C.  R.  was  now  decayed,  partly  with  riistj 
partly  frohi  the  effects  of  violence. 

The  stranger  paused,  as  if  uncertain  wlieiher  he  should 
demand  or  essay  entrance.  lie  i(^oked  through  the 
grating  down  an  avenue  skirted  by  majestic  oaks,  which 
led  onward  wiili  a  gentle  curve,  as  if  into  the  dtptl'S  of 

2*        VOL,    1. 


18 


WOODSTOCK. 


some  ample  and  ancient  forest.  The  wicket  of  the  large 
iron  gate  being  left  unwittingly  open,  the  soldier  was 
tempted  to  enter,  yet  with  some  hesitation,  as  he  that  in- 
trudes upon  ground  which  he  conjectures  may  be  prohib- 
ited— indeed  his  manner  showed  more  reverence  for  the 
scene  than  could  have  been  expected  from  his  condition 
and  character.  He  slackened  his  stately  and  consequen- 
tial pace,  and  at  length  stood  still,  and  looked  around  him. 

Not  far  from  the  gate,  he  saw^  rising  from  the  trees 
one  or  two  ancient  and  venerable  turrets,  bearing  each 
its  own  vane  of  rare  device  glittering  in  the  autumn  sun. 
These  indicated  the  ancient  hunting  seat,  or  Lodge,  as 
it  was  called,  which  had,  since  the  time  of  Henry  H., 
been  occasionally  the  residence  of  the  English  monarchs, 
when  it  pleased  them  to  visit  the  woods  of  Oxford,  which 
then  so  abounded  with  game,  that,  according  to  old  Ful- 
ler, huntsmen  and  falconers  were  nowhere  better  pleased. 
The  situation  which  the  Lodge  occupied  was  a  piece  of 
Hat  ground,  now  planted  with  sycamores,  not  far  from  the 
entrance  to  that  magnificent  spot  where  the  spectator  first 
stops  to  gaze  upon  Blenheim,  to  think  of  Marlborough's 
victories,  and  to  applaud  or  criticise  the  cumbrous  mag- 
nificence of  Vanbrugh's  style. 

There  too  paused  our  military  preacher,  but  with  other 
thoughts,  and  for  other  purpose,  than  to  admire  the  scene 
around  him.  It  was  not  long  afterwards  when  he  beheld 
two  persons,  a  male  and  a  female,  approaching  slowly, 
and  so  deeply  engaged  in  their  own  conversation,  that 
they  did  not  raise  their  eyes  to  observe  that  there  stood 
a  stranger  in  the  path  before  them.  The  soldier  took 
advantage  of  their  state  of  abstraction,  and,  desirous  at 
once  to  watch  their  motions,  and  avoid  their  observation, 
he  glided  beneath  one  of  the  huge  trees  which  skirted 
the  path,  and  whose  boughs,  sweeping  the  ground  on 
every  side,  insured  him  against  discovery,  unless  in  case 
of  an  actual  search. 

In  the  meantime,  the  gentleman  and  lady  continued  to 
advance,  directing  their  course  to   a  rustic  seat,  which 


WOODSTOCK.  19 

Still  enjoyed  the  sun-beams,  and  was  placed  adjacent  to 
the  tree  where  the  stranger  was  concealed. 

The  man  was  elderly,  yet  seemed  bent  more  by  sor- 
row and  infirmity,  than  by  the  weight  of  years.  He 
wore  a  mourning  cloak,  over  a  dress  of  the  same  mel- 
ancholy colour,  cut  in  that  picturesque  form,  which  Van- 
dyke has  rendered  immortal.  But  although  the  dress 
was  handsome,  it  was  put  on  and  worn  with  a  careless- 
ness which  showed  the  mind  of  the  wearer  ill  at  ease. 
His  aged,  yet  still  handsome  countenance,  had  the  same 
air  of  consequence  which  distinguished  his  dress  and  his 
gait.  A  striking  part  of  his  appearance  was  a  long  white 
beard,  which  descended  far  over  the  breast  of  bis  slash- 
ed doublet,  and  looked  singular  from  its  contrast  in  colour 
with  his  habit. 

The  young  lady,  by  whom  this  venerable  gentleman 
seemed  to  be  in  some  degree  supported  as  they  walked 
arm  in  arm,  was  a  slight  and  sylph-like  form,  with  a  per- 
son so  delicately  made,  and  so  beautiful  in  countenance, 
that  it  seemed  the  earth  on  which  she  walked  was  too 
grossly  massive  a  support  for  a  creature  so  aerial.  But 
mortal  beauty  must  share  human  sorrows.  The  eyes  of 
the  beautiful  being  showed  tokens  of  tears  ;  her  colour 
was  lightened  as  she  listened  to  her  aged  companion  ; 
and  it  was  plain,  from  his  melancholy  yet  displeased  look, 
that  the  conversation  was  as  distressing  to  himself  as  to 
her.  When  they  sat  down  on  the  bench  we  have  men- 
tioned, the  gentleman's  discourse  could  be  distinctly  over- 
heard by  the  eves-dropping  soldier,  but  the  answers  of  the 
young  lady  reached  his  ear  rather  less  distinctly. 

"  It  is  not  to  be  endured,"  said  the  old  man,  passion- 
ately ;  '*  it  would  stir  up  a  paralytic  wretch  to  start  up  a 
soldier.  My  people  have  been  thinned,  I  grant  you,  or 
have  fallen  off  from  me  in  these  times— I  owe  them  no 
grudge  for  it,  poor  knaves  ;  what  should  they  do  when 
the  pantry  has  no  bread,  and  the  buttery  no  alG>f  But 
we  have  still  about  us  some  rugged  foresters  of  the  old 
Woodstock  breed — old  as  myself  most  of  them — uhat  of 
that  .''  old  wood  seldom  warps  in  the  wetting  ;  1  uill  hold 


20 


WOODSTOCK. 


out  the  old  bouse,  and  it  will  not  be  the  first  time  that  I 
have  held  it  against  ten  times  tlie  strength  tliat  we  hear 
of  now." 

"  Alas!  my  dear  father, —said  the  young  lady,  in  a  tone 
which  seemed  to  intimate  his  proposal  of  defence  to  be 
altogether  desperate. 

"  And  why,  alas  f"  said  the  gentleman  angrily  ;  "  is 
it  because  I  shut  my  door  on  a  score  or  two  of  these 
blood-thirsty  hypocrites  f" 

"  But  their  masters  can  as  easily  send  a  regiment  or  an 
army,  if  they  will,"  replied  the  lady  j  "  and  what  good 
would  your  present  defence  do,  excepting  to  exasperate 
them  to  your  utter  destruction  ?" 

''  Be  It  so,  Alice,"  replied  her  father  ;  "  I  have  lived 
my  time,  and  beyond  it.  1  have  outlived  the  kindest  and 
most  prince-like  of  masters.  What  do  I  do  on  the  earth 
since  the  dismal  thirtieth  of  January  ^  The  parricide  of 
that  day  w^as  a  si8;nal  to  all  true  servants  of  Charles  Stuart 
to  avenge  liis  death,  or  die  as  soon  after  as  they  could 
find  a  worthy  opportunity." 

"  Do  not  speak  thus,  sir,"  said  Alice  Lee  ;  "  it  does 
not  become  your  gravity  and  your  worth  to  throw  away 
that  life  which  may  yet  be  of  service  to  your  king  and 
country, — it  will  not  and  cannot  always  be  thus.  Eng- 
land will  not  long  endure  the  rulers  which  these  bad  times 
liave  assigned  her.  in  the  meanwhile — (here  a  few 
words  escaped  the  listener's  ears) — and  beware  of  that 
impatience  which  makes  bad  worse."  , 

''Worse?"  exclaimed  the  impatient  old  man,  "  JFJiat 
can  be  worse  ?  Is  it  not  at  the  worst  already  ?  Will  not 
these  people  expel  us  from  the  only  shelter  we  have  left 
— dilapidate  what  remains  of  roy;il  property  under  my 
charge — make  the  palace  of  princes  into  a  den  of  tliieves, 
and  then  wipe  their  mouths  and  thank  God,  as  if  they  had 
done  an  alms  deed  r" 

"  Still,"  said  his  daughter,  "  there  is  hope  behind, 
and  I  trust  the  King  is  ere  this  out  of  their  reach — We 
have  reason  to  think  well  of  my  brother  Albert's  safety." 


WOODSTOCK.  21 

"  Ay,  Albert  !  there  again,"  said  the  old  man  in  a 
tone  of  reproach  ;  "  had  it  not  been  for  thy  entreaties  I 
had  gone  to  Worcester  myself  ;  but  I  must  needs  lie 
here  like  a  worthless  hound  when  the  hunt  is  up,  when 
who  knows  what  service  I  might  have  shown  ?  An  old 
man's  head  is  sometimes  useful  when  his  arm  is  but  little 
worth.  But  you  and  Albert  were  so  desirous  that  he 
should  go  alone — and  now,  who  can  say  what  has  become 
of  him^?" 

'*  Nay,  nay,  father,"  said  Alice  ;  ^'  we  have  good 
hope  that  Albert  escaped  from  that  fatal  day  ;  young 
Abney  saw  him  a  mile  from  the  field." 

"  Young  Abney  lied,  1  believe,"  said  the  father,  in  the 
same  humour  of  contradiction.  "  Young  Abney's  tongue 
seems  quicker  than  his  hands,  but  far  slower  than  his 
horse's  heels  when  he  leaves  the  roundheads  behind  him. 
I  w^ould  rather  Albert's  dead  body  were  lain  between 
Charles  and  Cromwell  than  hear  he  fled  as  early  as 
young  Abney." 

"  My  dearest  father,"  said  the  young  lady,  weeping 
as  she  spoke,   "  what  can  I  say  to  comfort  you  ?" 

"  Comfort  me,  say'st  thou,  girl  ?  1  am  sick  of  com- 
fort :  an  honourable  death,  with  the  ruins  of  Woodstock 
for  my  monument,  were  the  only  comfort  to  old  Henry 
Lee.  Yes,  by  the  memory  of  my  father  !  T  will  make 
good  the   Lodge  against  these  rebellious  robbers." 

"  Yet  be  ruled,  dearest  father,"  said  the  maiden, 
"  and  submit  to  that  which  we  cannot  gainsay.  My 
uncle  Everard " 

Here  the  old  man  caught  at  her  unfinished  words. 
"  Thy  uncle  Everard,  wench  ! — Well,  get  on.  What  of 
thy  precious  and  loving  uncle  Everard  .^" 

"  Nothing,  sir,"  she  said,  "  if  the  subject  displeases 
you." 

"  Displeases  me  ?"  he  replied,  "  why  should  it  dis- 
please me  ?  or,  if  it  did,  why  should'st  thou,  or  any  one, 
affect  to  care  about  it  f  What  is  it  that  hath  happened  of 
late  years — what  is  it  can  be  thought  to  happen  that  as- 
trologer  can  guess  at,  which  can  give  pleasure  to  us  f" 


22  AVOOD  STOCK. 

"  Fate,"  she  replied,  "  may  have  in  store  the  joyful 
restoration  of  our  banished  Prince." 

"  Too  late  for  my  time,  Alice,"  said  the  Knight ;  "  if 
there  be  such  a  white  page  in  the  heavenly  book,  it  will 
not  be  turned  until  long  after  my  day.  But  1  see  thou 
would'st  escape  me.  In  a  word,  what  of  thy  uncle  Eve- 
rard  ?" 

"  Nay,  sir,"  said  Alice,  "  God  knows  I  would  rather 
be  silent  for  ever,  than  speak  what  might,  as  you  would 
take  it,   add  to  /our  present  distemperature." 

"  Distemperature  !"  said  her  father  ;  "  Oh,  thou  art 
a  sweet-lipped  physician,  and  would'st,  I  warrant  me,  drop 
nought  but  sweet  balm,  and  honey,  and  oil,  on  my  dis- 
temperature— if  that  is  the  phrase  for  an  old  man's 
ailment  when  he  is  well  nigh  heart-broken.  Once  more, 
what  of  thy  uncle  Everard  f" 

His  last  words  were  uttered  in  a  high  and  peevish  tone 
of  voice  ;  and  Alice  Lee  answ^ered  her  father  in  a  trem- 
bling and  submissive  tone. 

"  I  only  meant  to  say  sir,  that  I  am  well  assured  that 
my  uncle  Everard,  when  we  quit  this  place " 

"  That  is  to  say,  when  we  are  kicked  out  of  it  by  crop- 
eared  canting  villains  like  himself.  But  on  with  thy 
bountiful  uncle — what  will  he  do  ? — will  he  give  us  the 
remains  of  his  worshipful  and  economical  house-keeping, 
the  fragments  of  a  thrice  sacked  capon  twice  a  week, 
and  a  plentiful  fast  on  the  other  five  days  f  Will  he  give 
us  beds  beside  his  half-starved  nags,  and  put  them  under 
a  short  allowance  of  straw,  that  his  sister's  husband — that 
I  should  have  called  my  deceased  angel  by  such  a  name  ! 
— and  his  sister's  daughter,  may  not  sleep  on  the  stones  ? 
Or  will  he  send  us  a  noble  each,  with  a  warning  to  make 
it  last,  for  he  had  never  known  the  ready  penny  so  hard 
to  come  by  ?  Or  what  else  will  your  uncle  Everard  do 
for  us  ^  Get  us  a  furlough  to  beg  ?  Why,  I  can  do  that 
without  him." 

"  You  misconstrue  him  much,"  answered  Alice,  with 
more  spirit  than  she  had  hitherto  displayed  ;  "  and 
would  you  but  question  your  own  heart,  you  would   ac- 


WOODSTOCK.  23 

knowledge — T  speak  with  reverence — that  your  tongue 
utters  wliat  your  better  judgment  would  disown.  My 
uncle  Everard  is  neither  a  miser  nor  a  hypocrite,  neither 
so  fond  of  the  goods  of  this  world  that  he  would  not 
supply  our  distresses  amply,  nor  so  wedded  to  fanatical 
opinions  as  to  exclude  charity  for  other  sects  beside  his 
own." 

"  Ay,  ay,  the  Church  of  England  is  a  sect  with  him  I 
doubt  not,  and  perhaps  with  thee  too,  Alice,"  said  the 
Knight.  "  Wliat  is  a  Mugglesman,  or  a  Ranter,  or  a 
Brownist,  but  a  sectary  ?  and  thy  phrase  places  them 
all,  with  Jack  Presbyter  himself,  on  the  same  footing  with 
our  learned  prelates  and  rehgious  clergy  !  Such  is  the 
cant  of  the  day  thou  livest  in,  and  why  shouldst  thou  not 
talk  like  one  of  the  wise  virgins  and  psalm-singing  sisters, 
since,  though  thou  hast  a  profane  old  cavalier  for  a  fa- 
ther, thou  art  own  niece  to  uncle  Everard  !" 

"  If  you  speak  thus,  my  dear  father,"  said  Alice, 
*'  what  can  I  answer  you  ?  Hear  me  but  one  patient 
word,  and  I  shall  have  discharged  my  uncle  Everard'^ 
commission." 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  commission  then  !  Surely  I  suspected  so 
much  from  the  beginning — nay,  have  some  sharp  guess 
touching  the  ambassador  also.  Come,  madam,  do  your 
errand,  and  you  shall  have  no  reason  to  complain  of  my 
patience." 

"  Then,  sir,"  replied  his  daughter,  "  my  uncle  Eve- 
rard desires  you  would  be  courteous  to  the  commission- 
ers, who  come  here  to  sequestrate  the  parks  and  the 
property  ;  or,  at  least,  heedfully  to  abstain  from  giving 
them  obstacle  or  opposition  :  it  can,  he  says,  do  no  good, 
even  on  your  own  principles,  and  it  will  give  a  pretext 
for  proceeding  against  you  as  one  in  the  worst  degree  of 
mahgnity,  which  he  thinks  tnay  otherwise  be  prevented. 
Nay,  he  has  good  hope,  that  if  you  follow  his  counsel, 
the  committee  may,  through  the  interest  he  possesses,  be 
inclined  to  remove  the  sequestration  of  your  estate  on  a 
moderate  fine.     Thus  says  my  uncle  ;  and  having  com- 


24 


WOODSTOCK. 


municated  his  advice,  I  have  no  occasion  to  urge  your 
patience  with  farther  argument." 

"  It  is  well  thou  dost  not,  Alice,"  answered  Sir  Henry 
Lee,  in  a  tone  of  suppressed  anger ;  "  for,  by  the  blessed 
rood,  thou  hast  well  nigh  led  me  into  the  heresy  of  think- 
ing thee  no  daughter  of  mine.  Ah  !  my  beloved  com- 
panion, who  art  now  far  from  the  sorrows  and  cares  of 
this  weary  world,  could'st  thou  have  thought  that  the 
daughter  thou  didst  clasp  to  thy  bosom  would,  like  the 
wicked  wife  of  Job,  become  a  temptress  to  her  father  in 
the  hour  of  affliction,  and  recommend  to  him  to  make 
his  conscience  truckle  to  his  interest,  and  to  beg  back 
at  the  bloody  hands  of  his  master's,  and  perhaps  his  son's 
murderers,  a  wretched  remnant  of  his  property  he  has 
been  robbed  of  ! — Why,  wench,  if  I  must  beg,  think'st 
thou  I  will  sue  to  those  who  have  made  me  a  mendicant.'* 
No.  I  will  never  show  iny  grey  beard,  worn  in  sorrow 
for  my  sovereign's  death,  to  move  the  compassion  of  some 
proud  sequestrator,  who  perhaps  was  one  of  the  parri- 
cides. No.  If  Henry  Lee  must  sue  for  food,  it  shall 
be  of  some  sound  loyalist  like  himself,  who  having  but 
half  a  loaf  remaining,  will  not  nevertheless  refuse  to  share 
it  with  him.  For  his  daughter,  she  may  wander  her 
own  way,  which  leads  her  to  a  refuge  with  her  wealthy 
roundhead  kinsfolks  ;  but  let  her  no  more  call  him  father, 
whose  honest  indigence  she  has  refused  to  share  !" 

"You  do  me  injustice,  sir,"  answered  the  young  lady, 
with  a  voice  animated  yet  faltering,  "  cruel  injustice. 
God  knows,  your  way  is  my  way,  though  it  lead  to  ruin 
and  beggary  ;  and  while  you  tread  it,  my  arm  shall  sup- 
port you  while  you  will  accept  an  aid  so  feeble." 

"  Thou  word'st  me,  girl,"  answered  the  old  cavalier, 
*'  thou  word'st  me,  as  Will  Shakspeare  says — thou  speak- 
est  of  lending  me  thy  arm  :  but  thy  secret  thought  is 
thyself  to  hang  upon  Markham  Everard's." 

"  My  father,  my  father,"  answered  Alice,  in  a  tone 
of  deep  grief,  "  what  can  thus  have  altered  your  clear 
judgment  apd  kindly  heart  ?— Accursed  be  these  civil 
commotions  !   not  only  do  they  destroy  men's  bodies,  but 


>VOODSTOCK.  25 

they  pervert  their  souls,  and  the  brave,  the  noble,  the 
generous,  become  suspicious,  harsh,  and  mean  !  Why 
upbraid  jne  with  Markham  Everard  ?  Have  I  seen  or 
spoke  with  him  since  you  discharged  him  tny  company, 
with  terms  less  kind — I  will  speak  it  truly — than  was  due 
even  to  the  relationship  betwixt  you  ?  Why  think  I 
would  sacrifice  to  that  young  wnn  my  duty  to  you  ? 
Know,  that  were  J  capable  ol'  such  criminal  weakness, 
Markham  Everard  were  the  first  to  despise  me  for  it." 

She  put  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  but  she  could 
not  hide  her  sobs,  nor  conceal  the  distress  they  intimated. 
The  old  man  was  moved. 

*'  ]  cannot  tell,"  he  said,  "  what  to  think  of  it.  Thou 
seem'st  sincere,  and  wert  ever  a  good  and  kindly  daugh- 
ter— how  thou  hast  let  that  rebel  youth  creep  into  thy 
heart  1  wot  not  ;  perhaps  it  is  a  punishment  on  me,  who 
thought  tlie  loyalty  of  my  house  was  like  undefiled  er- 
mine. Yet  here  is  a  damned  spot,  and  on  tlie  fail  est 
gem  of  all — my  own  dear  Alice.  But  do  not  weep — we 
have  enough  to  vex  us.  Where  is  it  that  Shakspeare 
hath  it  : — 


— •'  Gentle  daughter, 


Give  even  way  uulo  my  rough  affairs, 
•  Put  you  not  on  the  temper  of  the  times, 
Nor  be,  like  them,  to  Tercy  troublebome.'  " 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  quote  your  favourite  again, 
sir.  Our  little  jars  are  ever  well  nigh  ended  when 
Shakspeare  comes  in  play." 

"  His  book  was  the  closet-companion  of  my  blessed 
master,"  said  Sir  Henry  Lee  ;  "  after  the  Bible,  (with 
reverence  for  naming  ihem  together,)  he  felt»moie  com- 
fort in  it  than  any  other  ;  and  as  I  have  shared  his  dis- 
ease, why  it  is  natural  1  should  take  his  medicine.  Al- 
beit, I  pretend  not  to  my  master's  art  in  explaining  the 
dark  passages  ;  for  1  am  but  a  rude  man,  and  rustically 
brought  up  to  arms  and   hunting." 

"  You  have  seen  Shakspeare,  sir  .^"  said  the  young 
lady. 

3       VOL.    I. 


26 


WOODSTOCK. 


"  Silly  wench,"  replied  the  Knight,  "  he  died  when 
I  WIS  a  mere  child — thou  hast  heard  me  say  so  twenty 
tijncs  ;  but  thou  would'st  lead  the  old  man  away  from 
tlie  lender  subject.  Well,  though  I  am  not  blind,  1  can 
sh  it  my  eyes  and  follow.  Ben  Jonson  1  knew,  and 
could  tell  thee  many  a  tale  of  our  meetings  at  the  Mer- 
majii,  where,  if  there  was  much  wine,  there  was  much  wit 
also.  We  did  not  sit  blowing  tobacco  in  each  other's 
facvs,  and  turning  up  the  white  of  our  eyes  as  we  turned 
up  the  bottom  of  the  wine-pot.  Old  Ben  adopted  me 
as  one  of  his  sons  in  the  muses.  I  have  shown  you, 
have  I  not,  the  verses  '  To  my  much  beloved  son,  the 
worshipful  Sir  Henry  Lee  of  Ditchley,  Knight  and 
Baronet  .?'  " 

"  1  do  not  remember  them  at  present,  sir,"  replied 
Alice. 

"  1  fear  ye  lie,  wench,"  said  her  father  ;  "  but  no 
matter — thou  can'st  not  get  any  more  fooling  out  of  me 
just  now.  The  Evil  Spirit  hath  left  Saul  for  the  present. 
We  are  now  to  think  what  is  to  be  done  about  leaving 
Woodstock,  or  defending  it." 

"  My  dearest  father,"  said  Alice,  "  can  you  still 
nourish  a  moment's  hope  of  making  good  the  place  .f*" 

"I  know  not,  wench,"  replied  Sir  Henry  ;  "  I  would 
fain  have  a  parting  blow  at  them,  'tis  certain — and  who 
knows  where  a  blessing  may  alight  ?  But  then,  my  poor 
knaves  that  must  take  part  with  me  in  so  hopeless  a  quar- 
rel— tliat  thought  hampers  me,  I  confess." 

"  ()!].  let  it  do  so,  sir,"  replied  Alice  ;  "  there  are 
soldiers  in  the  town,  and  there  are  three  regiments  at 
Oxford."    4, 

"  Ah,  poor  Oxford!"  exclaimed  Sir  Henry,  whose 
vacillating  state  of  mind  was  turned  by  a  word  to  any 
new  subject  that  suggested  itself, — "  Seat  of  learning 
and  loyalty!  these  rude  soldiers  are  unfit  inmates  for  thy 
learned  halls  and  poetical  bowers  ;  but  thy  pure  and  bril- 
liant lamp  shall  defy  the  foul  breath  of  a  thousand  churls, 
were  they  to  blow  at  it  like  Boreas.     The  burning  bush 


AVOODSTOCK.  27 

shall  not  be  consumed,  even  by  the  heat  of  this  perse- 
cution." 

"  True,  SU-,"  said  Alice,  "  and  it  may  not  be  useless 
to  recollect,  that  any  stirring  of  the  royahsts  at  this  un- 
propitious  moment  will  make  them  deal  yet  more  harshly 
with  the  University,  which  they  consider  as  being  at  the 
bottom  of  every  thing  which  moves  ior  the  King  in 
these  parts." 

"  It  is  true,  wench,"  rephed  the  Knight ;  "  and  snidll 
cause  would  make  the  villains  sequestrate  the  poor  re- 
mains which  the  civil  wars  have  left  to  the  colleges. 
That  and  the  risk  of  my  poor  fellows — Well  !  thou  hast 
disarmed  me,  girl.  1  will  be  as  patient  and  calm  as  a 
martyr." 

*' Pray  God  you  keep  your  word,  sir,"  replied  his 
daughter  ;  "  but  you  are  ever  so  much  moved  at  the 
sight  of  any  of  these  men,  that " 

"  Would  you  make  a  child  of  me,  Alice  .'*"  said  Sir 
Henry.  "  Why,  know  you  not  that  I  can  look  upon  a 
viper,  or  a  toad,  or  a  bunch  of  engendering  adders, 
without  any  worse  feehng  than  a  little  disgust  f  and 
though  a  roundhead,  and  especially  a  red-coat,  are  in 
my  opinion  more  poisonous  dian  vipers,  more  loathsome 
than  toads,  more  hateful  than  knotted  adders,  yet  can  I 
overcome  ray  nature  so  far,  that  should  one  of  them  ap- 
pear at  this  moment,  thyself  should  see  how  civilly  I  would 
entreat  him." 

As  he  spoke  the  military  preacher  abandoned  his  leafy 
screen,  and  stalking  forward,  stood  unexpectedly  before 
the  old  cavalier,  who  stared  at  him  as  if  he  had  thought 
that  his  expressions  had  actually  raised  a  devil. 

"  Who  art  thou  ?"  at  length  said  Sir  Henry,  in  a  rais- 
ed and  angry  voice,  while  his  daughter  clung  to  his  arm 
in  terror,  little  confident  that  her  father's  pacific  resolu- 
tions would  abide  the  shock  of  this  unwelcome  ap- 
parition. 

"  I  am  one,"  replied  the  soldier,  "  who  neither  fear  nor 
shame  to  call  myself  a  poor  day-labourer  in  the  great  work 


^^  WOODSTOCK. 

of  England — uinph  ! — Ay,  a  simple  and  sincere  upholder 
of  the  good  old  cause." 

"  And  what  the  devil  do  you  seek  here  r"  said  the 
old  Knight,  fiercely. 

"  The  welcome  due  to  the  steward  of  the  Lords 
Commissioners,"  answered  the  soldier. 

"  VVeicome  art  thou  as  salt  would  be  to  sore  eyes," 
said  the  cavalier  ;  "  but  who  be  your  Commissioners, 
man  .?" 

The  soldier  with  little  courtesy  held  out  a  scroll,  which 
Sir  Henry  took  from  him  betwixt  his  finger  and  thumb, 
as  if  it  were  a  letter  from  a  pest-house  ;  and  held  it  at  as 
much  distance  from  his  eyes,  as  his  purpose  of  reading  it 
would  permit.  He  then  read  aloud,  and  as  he  named 
the  parties  one  by  one,  he  added  a  short  commentary  on 
each  nnme,  addressed,  indeed,  to  Alice,  but  in  such  a 
tone  that  showed  he  cared  not  for  its  bfeing  heard  by  the 
soldier. 

"  Desborough — the  ploughman  Desborough — as  grov- 
elling a  clown  as  is  in  England — a  fellow  that  would  be 
best  at  home,  like  an  ancient  Scytliian,  under  the  tilt  of  a 
vvagor^ d — n  him.  Harrison — a  bloody-minded,  rant- 
ing enthusiast,  who  read  the  Bible  to  such  purpose,  that 
he  never  lacked  a  text  to  justify  a  murder — d — n  him 
too.  Bletson — a  true-blue  Commonwealth's  man,  one 
of  Harrison's  Rota  Club,  with  his  noddle  full  of  new- 
fan2:led  notions  about  government,  the  clearest  object  of 
which  is  to  establish  the  tail  upon  the  head  ;  a  fellow  who 
leaves  you  the  statutes  and  laws  of  old  England,  to  prate 
of  Ro:n.3  and  Greece — sees  the  Areopagus  in  Westmin- 
ster-Hail, and  takes  old  Noll  for  a  Roman  Consul — 
Adad,  he  is  like  to  prove  a  dictator  amongst  them  in- 
stead.    Never  mind  ;  d — n  Bletson  too." 

"  Friend,"  said  the  soldier,  "  I  would  willingly  be 
civil,  but  it  consists  not  with  my  duty  to  hear  these  godly 
men,  in  whose  service  I  am,  spoken  of  after  this  irrev- 
erent and  unbecoiuino;  fashion.  And  albeit  I  know  that 
vou  malignants  think  you  have  a  right  to  make  free  with 
that  damnation,  which  vou  seem  to  use  as  your  own  por- 


WOODSTOCK.  29 

lion,  yet  it  is  superfluous  to  invoke  it  against  others,  who 
have  better  hopes  in  their  thoughts,  and  better  words 
hi  their  mouths." 

"  Thou  art  but  a  canting  varlet,"  replied  the  Knight : 
'*  and  yet  thou  art  right  in  some  sense — for  it  is  super- 
iuous  to  curse  men  who  akeady  are  damned  £S  black  as 
ihe  smoke  of  hell  itself." 

''  I  prithee  forbear,"  continued  the  soldier,  '■^  for 
manners'  sake  if  not  for  conscience — grisly  oaths  suit  ill 
with  grey  boards." 

"  Nay,  that  is  truth,  if  the  devil  spoke  it,"  said  the 
Knight  ;  ''  and  I  thank  Heaven  I  can  follow  good  coun- 
sel, though  old  Nick  gives  it.  And  so,  friend,  touching 
these  same  Commissioners,  bear  them  this  message  ;  that 
Sir  Henry  Lee  is  keeper  of  Woodstock  park,  with  right 
of  waif  and  stray,  vert  and  venison,  as  complete  as  any 
of  them  have  to  their  estate — that  is,  if  they  possess  any 
estate  but  what  they  have  gained  bj'  plundering  honest 
men.  Nevertheless,  he  will  give  place  to  those  who  have 
made  their  might  their  right,  and  will  not  expose  the 
lives  of  good  and  true  men,  where  the  odds  are  so  much 
against  them.  And  he  protests  that  he  makes  this  sur- 
render, neither  as  acknowledging  of  these  so  termed 
Commissioners,  nor  as  for  his  own  individual  part  fearing 
tiieir  force,  hut  purely  to  avoid  the  loss  of  English  blood, 
of  which  so  much  hr.ih  bt^en  spilt  in  these  late  times." 

'*  It  is  well  spoken,"  said  the  steward  of  the  Commis- 
sioners ;  "  and  therefore,  I  pray  you,  let  us  walk  togethti 
into  the  house,  that  thou  may'st  deliver  up  unto  me  the 
vessels,  and  gold  and  silver  ornaments,  belonging  unto 
the  Egyptian  Pharaoh  who  committed  them  to  th;\ 
keeping." 

"  What  vessels  ?"  exclaimed  tl-e  fiery  old  Knight  : 
"  and  belonging  to  whom  ?  Unbaptized  dog,  speak  civil 
of  the  Martyr  in  my  presence,  or  T  will  do  a  deed  mit- 
becomins  of  me  on  that  caitiff  corpse  of  thine." — And 
shaking  his  daughter  from  his  right  arm,  the  old  man  laid 
his  hand  on  his  rapier. 

3*       YOL.    I. 


•>0  >VOOUSTOCK. 

Ills  antagonist,  on  the  contrary,  kept  his  temper  com- 
pletely, and  waving  his  hand  to  add  impression  to  his> 
speech,  he  said,  with  a  calmness  which  a2;gravated  Sir 
Henry's  wrath,  "  Nay,  good  friend,  I  prithee  be  still, 
and  brawl  not — it  becomes  not  grey  hairs  and  feeble 
arms  to  rail  and  rant  hke  drunkards.  Put  me  not  to  use 
the  carnal  weapon  in  mine  own  defence,  but  listen  to  the 
voice  of  reason.  See'st  thou  not  that  the  Lord  hath  de- 
cided this  great  controversy^  in  favour  of  us,  and  ours, 
against  thee  and  thine  ?  V/herefore,  render  up  thy  stew- 
ardslup,  peacefully,  and  dehver  up  to  me  the  chattels  of 
ihe  Man,  Charles  Stuart." 

"  Patience  is  a  good  nag,  but  she  will  bolt,"  said  the 
Knight,  unable  longer  to  rein  in  his  wrath.  He  plucked 
his  sheathed  rapier  from  his  side,  struck  the  soldier  a 
severe  blow  with  it,  and  instantly  drawing  it,  and  throw- 
ing the  scabbard  over  the  trees,  placed  himself  in  a  pos- 
ture of  defence,  with  his  sword's  point  within  half  a  yard 
of  the  steward's  body.  The  latter  stepped  back  with 
activity,  threw  his  long  cloak  from  his  shoulders,  and 
drawing  his  long  tuck,  stood  upon  his  guard.  The 
swords  clashed  smartly  together,  while  Alice,  in  her  terror, 
screamed  wildly  for  assistance.  But  the  combat  was  of 
short  duration.  The  old  cavalier  had  attacked  a  man  as 
cunning  of  fence  as  he  himself,  or  a  little  more  so,  and 
possessing  all  the  strength  and  activity  of  which  time  had 
deprived  Sir  Henry,  and  the  calmness  which  the  othei 
had  lost  in  his  passion.  They  had  scarce  exchanged 
three  passes  ere  the  sword  of  the  Knight  flew  up  in  the 
air,  as  if  it  had  gone  in  search  of  the  scabbard  ;  and 
burning  with  shame  and  anger,  Sir  Henry  stood  disarm- 
ed, at  the  mercy  of  his  antagonist.  Tiie  republican 
showed  no  purpose  of  abusing  his  victory  ;  nor  did  he, 
either  during  the  combat,  or  after  the  victory  was  won, 
in  any  respect  alter  the  sour  and  grave  composure  which 
reigned  upon  his  countenance— a  combat  of  life  and 
death  seemed  to  him  a  thing  as  familiar,  and  as  little  to 
be  feared,  as  an  ordinary  bout  with  foils. 


WOODSTOCK.  31 

*'  Thou  art  delivered  unto  my  hands,"  he  said,  "  and 
by  the  law  of  arms  I  might  smile  thee  under  the  fifth  rib, 
even  as  Asahel  was  struck  dead  by  Abner,  the  son  of 
Nun,  as  he  followed  the  chase  on  the  hill  of  Ammah,  that 
lieth  before  Giah,  in  the  way  of  the  wilderness  of  Gibeon  ; 
but  far  be  it  from  me  to  spill  thy  remaining  drops  of  blood. 
True  it  is  thou  art  the  captive  of  my  sword  and  of  ray 
spear  ;  nevertheless,  seeing  that  there  may  be  a  turning 
from  thine  evil  ways,  and  a  returning  to  those  which  are 
good,  if  the  Lord  enlarge  thy  date  for  repentance  and 
amendment,  wherefore  should  it  be  shortened  by  a  poor 
sinful  mortal,  who  is,  speaking  truly,  but  thy  fellow- 
worm  ?" 

Sir  Henry  Lee  remained  still  confused,  and  unable  to 
answer,  when  there  arrived  a  fourth  person,  whom  the 
cries  of  Alice  had  summoned  to  the  spot.  This  was 
Joceline  Joliffe,  one  of  the  under-keepers  of  the  walk, 
who,  seeing  how  matters  stood,  brandished  his  quarter- 
staff,  a  weapon  from  which  he  never  parted,  and  having 
made  it  describe  the  figure  of  eight  in  a  flourish  through 
the  air,  would  have  brought  it  down  with  vengeance  upon 
the  head  of  the  steward,  had  not  Sir  Henry  interposed. 

"  We  must  trail  bats  now,  Joceline — our  time  of  shoul- 
dering them  is  passed.  It  skills  not  striving  against  the 
hill — the  devil  rules  the  roast,  and  makes  our  slaves  our 
tutors." 

At  this  moment  another  auxiliary  rushed  out  of  the 
thicket  to  the  Knight's  assistance.  It  was  the  large  wolf- 
dog,  in  strength  a  mastiff,  in  form  and  almost  in  fleetness 
a  greyhound,  which  we  have  already  mentioned.  Bevis 
was  the  noblest  of  the  kind  which  ever  pulled  down  a 
stag,  tawny-coloi.ired  like  a  lion,  with  a  black  nuizzle  and 
black  feet,  just  edged  with  a  line  of  white  round  the  toes. 
He  was  as  tractable  as  he  was  strong  and  bold.  Just  as 
he  was  about  to  rush  upon  the  soldier,  the  words  "  Peace, 
Bevis  !"  from  Sir  Henry,  converted  the  lion  into  a  lamb, 
and,  instead  of  pulling  the  soldier  down,  he  walked  round 
and  round,  and  snuffed,  as  if  using  all  his  sagacity  to  dis- 
cover who  the  stranger  could  be,  towards  whom,  though 


32  WOODSTOCK. 

of  so  questionable  an  appearance,  he  was  enjoined  for- 
bearance. Apparently  he  was  satisfied^  for  he  laid  aside 
his  doubtful  and  threatening  demonstrations,  lowered  his 
ears,  smoothed  down  his  bristles,  and  wagged  his  tail. 

Sir  Henry,  who  had  great  respect  for  the  sagacity 
of  his  favourite,  said  in  a  low  voice  to  Alice,  "  Bevis  is 
of  thy  opinion,  and  counsels  submission.  There  is  the 
finger  of  Heaven  in  this  to  punish  the  pride,  ever  the  fault 
of  our  house. — Friend,"  he  continued,  addressing  the 
soldier,  *'  thou  hast  given  the  finishing-touch  to  a  lesson, 
which  ten  yeais  of  constant  misfortune  have  beon  unable 
fully  to  teach  me.  Thou  iiast  distinctly  shown  me  the 
folly  of  thinking  that  a  good  cause  can  strengthen  a  weak 
arm.  God  forgive  me  for  the  thought,  but  I  could  almost 
turn  infidel,  and  believe  that  Heaven's  blessing  goes  ever 
v.'ith  the  longest  sword  ;  but  it  will  not  be  always  thus. 
God  knows  his  time. — Reach  me  my  Toledo,  Joceline, 
yonder  it  lies  ;  and  the  scabbard,  see  where  it  hangs  on 
the  tree. — Do  not  pull  at  my  cloak,  Alice,  and  look  so 
miserably  frightened  ;  1  shall  be  in  no  hurry  to  betake 
me  to  bright  steel  again,  I  promise  thee. — For  thee,  good 
fellow,  I  thank  thee,  and  will  make  way  for  thy  masters 
without  fartlier  dispute  or  cereinony.  Joceline  Joliife 
is  nearer  thy  degree  than  I  am,  and  will  make  surrender 
to  thee  of  the  Lodge  and  household  stufF.  '  Vvithhold 
nothing,  Joliffe — let  them  have  all.  For  me  I  will  never 
cross  the  threshold  again — but  where  to  rest  for  a  night  .^ 
1  would  trouble  no  one  in  Woodstock — hum — ay — it  shall 
be  so.  Alice  and  I,  Joceline,  will  go  down  to  thy  hut 
by  Rosamond's  well  ;  we  will  borrow  the  shelter  of  thy 
roof  for  one  night  at  least  ;  thou  wilt  give  us  welcome, 
wilt  thou  not  ? — How  now — a  clouded  brow  .'"' 

Joceline  certainly  looked  embarrassed,  directed  first  a 
glance  to  Alice,  then  looked  to  Heaven,  then  to  earth, 
and  last  to  the  four  quarters  of  the  horizon,  and  ihen  mur- 
mured out,  "  Certainly — without  question — might  he  but 
run  down  to  put  the  house  in  order." 

"  Order  enough — order  enough — for  those  fhnt  may 
soon  be  glad  of  clean  straw  in  a  barn,"  said  the  Knight ; 


WOODSTOCK.  33 

"  but  if  thou  hast  an  ill  will  to  harbour  any  obnoxious  or 
malignant  persons,  as  the  phrase  goes,  never  shame  to 
speak  it  out,  man.  'Tis  true  1  took  thee  up  \vl:en  thou 
wert  but  a  ragged  Robin,  made  a  keeper  of  thee,  and 
so  forth. — What  of  that  t'  Sailors  think  no  longer  of  the 
wind  than  when  it  forwards  them  on  the  voyage— thy 
betters  turn  with  the  tide,  why  should  not  such  a  poor 
knave  as  thou  .^" 

"  God  pardon  your  honour  for  your  harsh  judginent," 
said  Jolifte.  "  The  hut  is  yours,  such  as  it  is,  and  should 
be  were  it  a  king's  palace,  as  1  wish  it  were  even  for  your 
honour's  sake,  and  JMistress  Aiire — only  I  could  wish 
your  honour  would  condescend  to  let  me  step  down  be- 
fore, in  case  any  neighbour  be  there — or — or — ^just  to 
put  matters  something  into  order  for  Mistress  Alice  and 
your  honour — just  to  make  things  something  seemly  and 
shapely." 

"  Not  a  whit  necessary,"  said  the  Knight,  while  Alice 
had  much  trouble  in  concealing  her  agitation.  "  If  thy 
matters  are  unseemly,  they  are  fitter  for  a  defeated  knight 
— if  they  are  unshapely,  why,  the  Hker  to  the  rest  of  a 
world,  which  is  all  unsliaped.  Go  thou  with  that  man. 
— What  is  thy  name,  friend  f" 

"Joseph  Touikins  is  my  name  in  the  flesh,"  snid  the 
steward.  "  Men  call  me  Honest  Joe,  and  Trusty 
Tomkins." 

"  If  thou  hast  dese;-ved  such  names,  considering  what 
trade  thou  hast  driven,  thou  art  a  jewel  indeed,"  said 
the  Knight  ;  "  yet  if  thou  hast  not,  never  blush  for  the 
matter,  Joseph,  for  if  thou  art  not  in  truth  honest,  thou 
hast  all  the  better  chance  to  keep  the  fame  of  it — the 
title  and  the  thing  itself  have  long  walked  separate  ways. 
Farewell  to  thee, — and  farewell  to  fair  Woodstock  !" 

So  saying,  the  old  Knight  turned  round,  and  pulling  his 
daughter's  arm  through  his  own,  they  walked  onward 
into  the  forest,  in  the  same  posture  in  which  they  were 
introduced  to  the  reader. 


WOODSTOCK. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Now,  ye  wild  blades,  that  make  loose  inns  your  stage, 
To  vapour  forth  the  acts  of  this  sad  age, 
Stout  Edgehill  fight,  the  Newberries  and  the  West, 
And  northern  clashes,  where  you  still  fought  best  ; 
Your  strange  escapes,  your  dangers  void  of  fear, 
When  bullets  flew  between  the  head  and  ear. 
Whether  you  fought  by  Damme  or  the  i^pirit. 
Of  you  I  speak. Legend  of  Captain  Jones. 

Joseph  Tgmkjns  and  JolifFe  the  keeper  remained,  for 
some  time  in  silence,  as  they  stood  together  looking  along 
the  path  in  which  the  figures  of  the  Knight  of  Ditchley 
and  pretty  Mistress  Alice  had  disa[)peared  behind  the 
trees.  They  then  gazed  on  each  other  in  doubt,  as  men 
who  scarce  knew  whether  they  stood  on  hostile  or  on 
friendly  terms  together,  and  were  at  a  loss  how  to  open 
a  conversation.  They  heard  the  Knight's  whistle  sum- 
mon Bevis  ;  but  though  the  good  hound  turned  his  head 
and  pricked  his  ears  at  the  sound,  yet  he  did  not  obey 
the  call,  but  continued  to  snufF  around  Joseph  Tomkin's 
cloak. 

.  "  Thou  art  a  rare  one,  I  fear  me — "  said  the  keeper, 
looking  to  his  new^  acquaintance.  *'  J  have  heard  of  men 
who  have  charms  to  steal  both  dogs  and  deer." 

"  Trouble  thyself  not  about  my  qualities,  friend,"  said 
Joseph  Tomkins,  "  but  bethink  thee  of  doing  thy  mas- 
ter's bidding." 

Joceline  did  not  immediately  answer,  but  at  length,  as 
if  in  sign  of  truce,  stuck  the  end  of  his  quarter-staff 
upright  in  the  ground,  and  leant  upon  it  as  he  said  gruf- 
fly,— "  So,  my  tough  old  knight  and  you  were  at  drawn 
bilbo,  by  way  of  afternoon  service,  sir  preacher — Well 
for  you  I  came  not  up  till  the  blades  v/ere  done  jingling, 
or  I  had  rung  even-song  upon  your  pate." 


WOODSTOCK.  35 

The  Independent  smiled  grimly  as  he  replied,  "  Nay, 
friend,  it  is  well  for  th\self,  lor  never  should  sexton  have 
been  better  paid  for  the  knell  he  tolled.  Nevertheless, 
why  should  there  be  war  betwixt  us,  or  my  hand  be 
against  thine  ?  Thou  art  but  a  poor  knave,  doing  thy 
master's  order,  nor  have  I  any  desire  that  my  own  blood 
or  thine  should  be  shed  touching  this  matter. — Thou  art, 
I  understand,  to  give  me  peaceful  possession  of  the  Palace 
of  Woodstock,  so  called — though  there  is  now  no  palace 
in  England,  no,  nor  shall  be  in  the  days  that  come  after, 
until  we  shall  enter  the  palace  of  the  New  Jerusalem^ 
and  the  reign  of  the  Saints  shall  commence  on   earth.-' 

"  Pretty  well  begun  already,  friend  Tomkins,"  said  the 
keeper  ;  "  you  are  little  short  of  being  kings  already 
upon  the  matter  as  it  now  stands  ;  and  for  your  Jerusa- 
lem 1  wot  not,  but  Woodstock  is  a  pretty  nest-egg  to 
begin  with. — Well,  will  you  shog — will  you  on — will  you 
take  sasine  and  livery  ? — You  heard  my  ordeis." 

"  Umph — 1  know  not,"  said  Tomkins.  "  J  must  be- 
ware of  ambuscades  and  I  am  alone  here.  Moreover, 
it  is  the  High  Thanksgiving  appointed  by  Parliament, 
and  owned  to  by  the  army — also  the  old  man  and  the 
young  woman  may  want  to  recover  some  of  their  clothes 
and  personal  property,  and  1  would  not  that  they  were 
baulked  on  my  account.  Wherefore,  if  thou  wilt  deliver 
me  possession  to-morrow  morning,  it  shall  be  done  in 
personal  presence  of  my  own  followers,  and  of  the  Pres- 
byterian man  the  Mayor,  so  that  the  transfer  may  be 
made  before  witnesses  ;  whereas,  were  there  none  with 
us  but  thou  to  deliver,  and  1  to  take  possession,  the  men 
of  Belial  might  say.  Go  to,  Trusty  Tomkins  hath  been 
an  Edomite — Honest  Joe  hath  been  as  an  Ishniaelite, 
rising  up  early  and  dividing  the  spoil  with  them  that  serv- 
ed the  Man — yea,  they  that  wore  beards  and  green 
jerkins,  as  in  remembrance  of  the  Alan  and  of  his  govern- 
ment." 

Joceline  fixed  his  keen  dark  eyes  upon  the  soldier  as  he 
spoke,  as  if  in  design  to  discover  whether  there  was 
fair  play   in  his  mind  or  not.     He  then   applied  his  five 


36  WOODSTOCK. 

fingers  to  scratch  a  large  shock  head  of  hair,  as  if  that 
oper-ation  was  necessary  to  enable  him  to  come  to  a  con- 
clusion^ "  This  is  all  fair  sounding,  brother,"  said  he  ; 
"  but  I  tell  you  plainly,  there  are  some  silver  mugs,  and 
platters,  and  flagons,  and  so  forth,  in  yonder  house,  which 
have  survived  the  geneial  sweep  that  sent  all  our  plate 
to  the  smelling-pot,  to  put  our  Knight's  troop  on  horse- 
back. Now,  if  thou  takest  not  these  off  my  hand,  I  may 
come  to  trouble,  since  it  may  be  thought  J  have  minished 
their  ntmibers  ; — Whereas,  I  being  as  honest  a  fellow — " 

*'  As  ever  stole  venison,"  said  Tomkins — "  nav,  I  do 
owe  thee  an  interruption." 

*'  Go  to,  then,"  replied  the  keeper  ;  "  if  a  stag  may 
have  come  to  mischance  in  my  walk,  it  was  no  way  in 
the  course  of  dishonesty,  but  merely  to  keep  my  old 
dame's  pan  from  rusting;  but  for  silver  porringers,  tank- 
ards and  such  like,  I  would  as  soon  have  drunk  the 
melted  silver  as  stolen  the  vessel  made  out  of  it.  So 
that  I  w^ould  not  wish  blame  or  suspicion  fell  on  me  in 
this  matter.  And  therefore,  if  you  will  have  the  things 
rendered  even  now,  why  so — and  if  not,  hold  me  blame- 
less." 

"  Ay,  truly  .^"  said  Tomkins  ;  "  and  who  is  to  hold  me 
blameless  if  they  should  see  cause  to  think  anything 
minished  f  Not  the  right  worshipful  Commissioners,  to 
whom  the  property  of  the  estate  is  as  their  own  ;  there- 
fore, as  thou  say'st,  we  must  walk  warily  in  the  matter. 
To  lock  up  the  house  and  leave  it,  were  but  the  work  of 
simple  ones.  What  say'st  thou  to  spend  the  night  there, 
and  then  nothing  can  be  touched  without  the  knowledge 
of  us  both  ?" 

"  Why,  concerning  that,"  answered  the  keeper,  "  1 
should  be  at  my  hut  to  make  matters  somewhat  confor- 
mable for  him,  and  Mistress  Alice,  for  my  old  dame  Joan 
is  something  dunny,  and  will  scarce  know  how  to  manage 
— and  yet,  to  speak  truth,  by  the  mass  I  would  rather 
not  see  Sir  Henry  to-night,  since  what  has  happed  to-day 
hath  roused  his  spleen,  and  it  is  a  peradventure  he  may 


WOODSTOCK. 


37 


have  met  something  at  the  hut  which  will  scarce  tend 
to  cool  it." 

*'  It  is  a  pity,"  said  Tomkins,  "that  being  a  gentleman 
of  such  grave  and  goodly  presence,  he  should  be  such  a 
malignant  cavalier,  and  that  he  should,  like  the  restoi"  that 
generation  of  vipers,  have  clothed  himself  with  curses  as 
with  a  garment." 

"  Which  is  as  much  as  to  say,  the  tough  old  Knight 
hath  a  habit  of  swearing,"  said  the  keeper,  grinning  at  a 
pun,  which  has  been  repeated  since  his  time  ;  "but  who 
can  help  it  f  it  comes  of  use  and  wont.  Were  you  now, 
in  your  bodily  self,  to  light  suddenly  on  a  Maypole,  whh 
all  the  blithe  moiris-dancers  prancing  around  it  to  the 
merry  pipe  and  tabor,  with  bells  jingling,  ribbons  flutter- 
ing, lads  frisking,  and  laughing  lasses  leaping  till  you 
might  see  where  the  scarlet  garter  fastened  the  light-blue 
hose,  1  think  some  feeling,  resembling  either  natural  so- 
ciality, or  old  use  and  wont,  would  get  the  better,  fi  lend, 
even  of  thy  gravity,  and  thou  would'st  fling  thy  cuckoldy 
steeple-hat  one  way,- and  that  blood-thirsty  long-sword 
another,  and  trip  like  the  noodles  of  Hogs-Norton,  uhen 
the  pigs  play  on  the  organ." 

The  Independent  turned  fiercely  round  on  the  keeper, 
and  replied,  "  How  now,  ]\lr.  Green  Jerkin  ?  what  lan- 
guage is  this  to  one  whose  hand  is  at  the  plough  ?  I  ad- 
vise tliee  to  put  curb  on  thy  tongue,  lest  thy  ribs  pay  the 
forfeit." 

"  Nay,  do  not  take  the  high  tone  with  me,  brother," 
answered  Joceline  ;  "  remember  thou  hast  not  the  old 
Knight  of  sixty-five  to  deal  with,  but  a  fellow  as  bitter  and 
prompt  as  thyself — it  may  be  a  little  more  so — younger 
at  all  events — and  prithee,  why  should'st  thou  take  such 
umbrage  at  a  Maypole  ?  I  would  thou  hadst  known  one 
Phil  Hazledine  of  these  parts — He  was  the  best  monis- 
dancer  betwixt  Oxford  and  Burford." 

The  more  shame  to  him,"  answered  the  Independent ; 
"  and  1  trust  he  has  seen  the  error  of  his  ways,  and  made 
himself  (as,  if  a  man  of  action,  he  easily   might)  fit  for 

4       VOL.    I. 


38  WOODSTOCK. 

better  company  than  wood-hunters,  deer-stealers,  Maid 
Marions,  swash-bucklers,  deboshed  revellers,  bloody 
brawlers,  maskers  and  mummers,  lewd  men  and  light 
women,  fools  and  fiddlers,  and  carnal  sell'-pleasers  of 
every  description." 

"  Well,"  replied  the  keeper,  "  you  are  out  of  breath 
n  time  ;  for  here  we  stand  before  the  famous  Maypole 
of  Woodstock." 

They  paused  in  an  open  space  of  meadow-land,  beau- 
tifully skirted  by  large  oaks  and  sycamores,  one  of  which, 
as  king  of  the  forest,  stood  a  little  detached  from  the 
rest,  as  if  scorning  the  vicinity  of  any  rival.  It  was 
scathed  and  gnarled  in  the  branches,  but  the  immense 
trunk  still  showed  to  what  gigantic  size  the  monarch  of 
the  forest  can  attain  in  the  groves  of  merry  England. 

"  That  is  called  the  King's  Oak,"  said  Joceline  ;  "  the 
oldest  men  of  Woodstock  know  not  how  old  it  is  ;  they 
say  Henry  used  to  sit  under  it  with  fair  Rosamond,  and 
see  the  lasses  dance,  and  the  lads  of  the  village  run  races, 
and  wrestle  for  belts  or  bonnets."     • 

"  1  nothing  doubt  il,  friend,"  said  Tomkins  ;  "  a  tyrant 
and  a  harlot  were  fitting  patron  and  patroness  for  such 
vanities." 

"  Thou  may'st  say  thy  say,  friend,"  replied  the  keep- 
er, "  so  thou  lettest  me  say  mine.  There  stands  the 
Maypole,  as  thou  seest,  half  a  flight-shot  f  om  the  King's 
Oak,  in  the  midst  of  the  meadow.  The  King  gave  ten 
shillin2;s  from  the  customs  of  Woodstock  to  make  a  new 
one  yearly,  besides  a  tree  fitted  for  the  purpose  out  of 
the  forest.  Now  it- is  warped  and  withered,  and  twisted 
like  a  wasted  briar-rod.  The  green,  too,  used  to  be 
close-shaved,  and  rolled  till  it  was  smooth  as  a  velvet 
mantle— now  it  is  rough  and  overgrown." 

"  Well,  well,  friend  Joceline,"  said  the  Independent, 
"  but  where  was  the  edification  of  all  this  ? — what  use 
of  doctrine  could  be  derived  from  a  pipe  and  tabor  ^  or 
was  tliere  ever  aught  like  wisdom  in  a  bagpipe  .^" 

"  You  may  ask  better  scholars  that,"  said  Joceline^ 
"  but  methinks  men  cannot  be  always  grave,  and  with 


\yGODr^TOCK.  39 

the  hat  over  their  brow.  A  young  maiden  wiil  laugh  as 
a  tender  flower  will  blow — ay,  and  a  lad  will  like  her  the 
better  for  it  ;  just  as  llie  same  bliiiie  spring  that  makes 
the  young  birds  whistle,  bids  the  blithe  fawns  skip. 
There  have  come  worse  days  since  the  jolly  old  times 
have  gone  by  ; — 1  tell  thee,  that  in  the  holidays  which 
you,  Mr.  Longsword,  have  put  down,  I  have  seen  this 
green-sward  alive  with  merry  maidens  and  manly  fellows. 
The  good  old  rector  himself  thought  it  was  no  sin  to 
come  for  a  while  and  look  on,  and  his  goodly  cassock 
and  scarf  kept  us  all  in  good  order,  and  taught  us  to 
hmit  our  mirth  within  the  bounds  of  discretion.  We 
might,  it  may  be,  crack  a  broad  jest,  or  pledge  a  friendly 
cup  a  turn  too  often,  but  it  was  in  mirth  and  good  neigh- 
bourhood— Ay,  and  if  there  was  a  bout  at  single-stick,  or 
a  belly-full  of  boxing,  it  was  all  for  love  and  kindriess  ; 
and  beliera  few  dry  blows  in  drink,  than  the  bloody  do- 
ings we  have  had  in  sober  earnest,  since  the  presbyter's 
cap  got  above  the  bishop's  mitre,  and  we  exchanged  our 
goodly  rectors  and  learned  doctors,  whose  sermons  were 
all  bolstered  up  with  as  much  Greek  and  Latin  as  might 
have  confounded  the  devil  himself,  for  weavers  and  cob- 
lers,  and  such  other  pulpit  volunteers,  as — as  we  heard 
this  morning — It  will  out." 

"  Well,  friend,"  said  the  Independent,  with  patience 
scarce  to  have  been  expected,  "I  quarrel  not  with  thee 
for  nauseating  my  doctrine.  If  thine  ear  is  so  much 
tickled  with  tabor  tunes  and  morris  tripping,  truly  it  is 
not  likely  thou  should'st  find  pleasant  savour  in  more 
wholesome  and  sober  food. — But  let  us  to  the  Lodge, 
that  we  may  go  about  our  business  there  before  the  sun 
sets." 

"  Troth,  and  that  may  be  advisable  for  more  reasons 
than  one,"  said  the  keeper,  "  for  there  have  been  tales 
about  the  Lodge  which  have  made  men  afeard  to  har- 
bour there  after  nightfall." 

"  Were  not  yon  old  Knight,  and  yonder  damsel  his 
daughter,  wont  to  dwell  there  .'^"  said  the  Independent. 
"  My  information  said  so." 


40  WOODSTOCK. 

"  Ay,  truly  did  they,"  said  Joceline  ;  "  and  when 
they  kept  a  jolly  household,  all  went  well  enough  ;  for 
nothing  banishes  fear  like  good  ale.  But  after  the  best 
of  our  men  went  to  the  wars,  and  were  slain  at  Naseby 
flight,  they  who  were  left  found  the  Lodge  more  lone- 
some, and  the  old  Knight  has  been  much  deserted  of  his 
servants  : — marry,  it  might  be,  that  he  has  lacked  silver 
of  late  to  pay  groom  and  lackey." 

"  A  potential  reason  for  the  diminution  of  a  household," 
said  the  soldier. 

."  Hight,  sir,  even  so,"  replied  the  keeper.  "  They 
spoke  of  steps  in  the  great  gallery,  heard  by  dead  of  the 
night,  and  voices  that  whispered  at  noon  in  the  matted 
chambers  ;  and  the  servants  pretended  that  these  things 
scared  them  away  ;  but  in  my  poor  judgment,  when 
Martinmas  and  Whitsuntide  came  round  without  a  penny- 
fee,  the  old  blue-bottles  of  serving-nien  began  to  think 
of  creeping  elsewhere  before  the  frost  chilled  thern — No 
devil  so  frightful  as  that  which  dances  in  the  pocket  where 
there  is  no  cross  to  keep  him  out." 

"  You  were  reduced,  then,  to  a  petty  household  .''" 
said  the  Independent. 

"  Ay,  marry,  were  we,"  said  Joceline  ;  "  but  we  kept 
some  half-score  together,  what  with  blue-bottles  in  the 
Lodge,  what  with  green  caterpillars  of  the  chase,  like 
him  who  is  yours  to  command  ;  we  stuck  together  till 
w^e  found  a  call  to  take  a  morning's  ride  somewhere  or 
other." 

"  To  the  town  of  Worcester,"  said  the  soldier,  "  where 
you  were  crushed  like  vermin  and  palmer  worms,  as  you 
are." 

"  You  may  say  your  pleasure,"  replied  the  keeper ; 
'*  ril  never  contradict  a  man  who  has  got  my  head  under 
his  belt.  Our  backs  are  at  the  wall,  or  you  vVould  not  be 
here." 

"  Nay,  friend,"  said  the  Independent,  "  thou  riskest 
nothing  by  thy  freedom  and  trust  in  me.  I  can  be  hon 
camarado  to  a  good  soldier,  although  I  have  striven  with 


^VOOL- STOCK.  41 

him  even  to  the  going  down  of  the  sun — But  here  we 
are  in  front  of  the  Lodge." 

They  stood  accordingly  in  front  of  the  old  Gothic 
building,  irregularly  constructed,  and  at  different  times, 
as  the  humour  of  the  English  monarchs  led  them  to  taste 
the  pleasures  of  Woodstock  Chase,  and  to  make  such 
improvements  for  their  own  accommodations  as  the  in- 
creasing luxury  of  each  age  required.  Tlie  oldest  part 
of  the  structure  had  been  named  by  tradition  Fair  Pvosa- 
mond's  Tower  ;  it  was  a  small  turret  of  great  height, 
with  narrow  windows,  and  walls  of  massive  thickness. 
The  tQwer  had  no  opening  to  the  ground,  or  means  of 
descending,  a  great  part  of  the  lower  portion  being  solid 
mason-work.  It  was  traditionally  said  to  have  been  ac- 
cessible only  by  a  sort  of  small  drawbridge,  which  might 
be  dropped  at  pleasure  from  a  little  portal  near  the  sum- 
mit of  the  turret,  to  the  battlements  of  another  tower  of 
the  same  construction,  but  twenty  feet  lower,  and  con- 
taining only  a  winding  stair-case,  called  in  Woodstock 
Love's  Ladder  ;  because  it  is  said,  that  by  ascending  this 
stair-case,  to  the  top  of  the  tower,  and  then  making  use 
of  the  drawbridge,  Henry  obtained  access  to  the  chamber 
of  liis  paramour. 

This  tradition  had  been  keenly  impugned  by  Dr. 
Rochecliffe,  the  former  rector  of  Woodstock,  wlio  insist- 
ed, that  what  was  called  Rosamond's  Tower,  was  merely 
an  interior  keep,  or  citadel,  to  which  the  lord  or  warden 
of  the  castle  might  retreat,  when  other  points  of  safet\ 
failed  him  ;  and  either  protract  his  defence,  or,  at  tiie 
worst,  stipulate  for  reasonable  terms  of  surrender.  The 
people  of  Woodstock,  jealous  of  their  ancient  traditions, 
did  not  relish  this  new  mode  of  explaining  them  away  ; 
and  it  is  even  said,  that  the  T^layor,  whom  wt  have  alreadv 
introduced,  became  Presbyterian,  in  revenge  of  the 
doubts  cast  by  the  rector  upon  this  in)portHnt  subject, 
rather  choosing  to  give  up  the  Liturgy  than  his  fixed 
belief  in  Rosamond's  Tower,  and  Love's  Ladder. 

4*       VOL.    I. 


42  AVOOD  STOCK. 

The  rest  of  the  Lodge  was  of  considerable  extent,  and 
of  different  ages  ;  comprehending  a  nest  of  little  courts, 
surrounded  by  buildings  which  corresponded  with  each 
other,  sometimes  within-doors,  sometimes  by  crossing  the 
courts,  and  frequently  in  both  ways.  The  different 
heights  of  the  building  announced  that  they  could  only 
be  connected  by  the  usual  variety  of  stair-cases,  which 
exercised  the  limbs  of  our  ancestors  in  the  sixteenth  and 
earlier  centuries,  and  seem  sometimes  to  have  been 
contrived  for  no  other  purpose. 

Tlie  varied  and  multiplied  fronts  of  this  irregular 
building  were,  as  Dr.  Rochecliffe  was  wont  to  say,  an 
absolute  banquet  to  the  architectural  antiquary,  a*s  they 
certainly  contained  specimens  of  every  style  which  ex- 
isted from  the  pure  Norman  of  Henry  of  Anjou,  down 
to  the  composite  half  Gothic,  half  classical  architecture, 
of  Elizabeth  and  her  successor.  Accordingly  the  Rector 
was  himself  as  much  enamoured  of  Woodstock  as  ever 
was  Henry  of  Fair  Rosamond  ;  and  as  his  infimacy  with 
Sir  Henry  Lee  permitted  him  entrance  at  all  times  to  the 
Royal  Lodge,  he  used  to  spend  whole  days  in  wandering 
about  the  antique  apartments,  examining,  measuring, 
studying,  and  finding  out  excellent  reasons  for  architect- 
ural peculiarities,  which  probably  only  owed  their  exist- 
ence to  the  freakish  fancy  of  a  Gothic  artist.  But  the 
old  antiquarian  had  been  expelled  from  his  living  by  the 
intolerance  and  troubles  of  the  times,  and  his  successor. 
Nehemiah  Holdenough,  would  have  considered  an  elabo- 
rate investigation  of  the  profane  sculpture  and  architecture 
of  bhnded  and  blood-thirsty  Papists,  together  with  the 
history  of  the  dissolute  amours  of  old  Norman  monarchs, 
as  little  better  than  a  bowing  down  before  the  calves  of 
Bethel,  and  a  drinking  of  the  cup  of  abominations. — We 
return  to  the  course  of  our  story. 

"  There  is,"  said  the  Independent  Tomkins,  after  he 
had  carefully  perused  the  front  of  the  building,  "  many  a 
rare  monument  of  olden  wickedness  about  this  miscalled 
Royal  Lodge  ;  verily,  I  shall  rejoice  much  to  see  the 
same  destroyed,  yea,  burned  to   ashes,  and  the  ashes 


WOODSTOCK.  4S 

thrown  into  the  brook  Kedron,  or  any  other  brook,  that 
the  land  may  be  cleansed  from  the  memory  thereof, 
neither  remember  the  iniquity  with  which  their  fathers 
have  sinned." 

The  keeper  heard  him  with  secret  indignation,  and 
began  to  consider  with  himself,  whether,  as  they  stood 
but  one  to  one,  and  without  chance  of  speedy  interference, 
he  was  not  called  upon,  by  1  is  official  duty,  to  castigate 
the  rebel  who  used  language  so  defamatory.  But  he 
fortunately  recollected,  that  the  strife  must  be  a  doubtful 
one — that  the  advantage  of  arms  was  against  him — and 
that,  in  especial,  even  if  he  should  succeed  in  the  combat, 
it  would  be  at  the  risk  of  severe  retaliation.  It  must  be 
owned,  too,  that  there  was  something  about  the  Indepen- 
dent so  dark  and  mysterious,  so  grim  and  grave,  that  the 
more  open  spirit  of  the  keeper  felt  oppressed,  and,  if 
not  overawed,  at  least  kept  in  doubt  concerning  him  ; 
and  he  thought  it  wisest,  as  well  as  safest,  for  his  master 
and  himself,  to  avoid  all  subjects  of  dispute,  and  know 
better  with  whom  he  was  dealing,  before  he  made  eithei- 
tViend  or  enemy  of  him. 

The  great  gate  of  the  Lodge  was  strongly  bolted, 
but  the  wicket  opened  on  Joceline's  raising  the  latch. 
There  was  a  short  passage  of  ten  feet,  which  had  been 
formerly  closed  by  a  portcullis  at  the  inner  end,  while 
tliree  loop-holes  opened  on  either  side,  through  which 
any  daring  intruder  might  be  annoyed,  who.  having  sur- 
prised the  fiist  gate,  must  be  thus  exposed  to  a  severe 
lire  before  he  could  force  the  second.  But  the  machin- 
ery of  the  portcullis  was  damaged,  and  it  now  remained 
a  fixture,  brandishing  its  jaw,  well  furnished  with  iron 
fangs,  but  incapable  of  dropping  it  across  the  path  of  in- 
vasion. 

The  way,  therefore,  lay  open  to  the  great  hall,  or  outer 
vestibule  of  the  Lodge.  (Jne  end  of  this  long  and  dusky 
apartment  was  entirely  occupied  by  a  gallery,  which  had 
in  ancient  limes  served  to  accommodate  the  musicians 
and  minstrels.  There  was  a  clumsy  stair-case  at  either 
side  of  it,  composed  of  entire  logs  of  a  foot  square  ;  and 


44  WOODSTOCK. 

in  each  angle  of  the  ascent  was  placed,  by  way  of  senti- 
nel, the  figure  of  a  Norman  foot-soldier,  having  an  open 
casque  on  his  head,  which  displayed  features  as  stern  as 
the  painter's  genius  could  devise.  Their  arms  were 
buff-jackets,  or  shirts  of  mail,  round  bucklers,  with  spikes 
in  the  centre,  and  buskins,  which  adorned  and  defended 
the  feet  and  ancles,  but  left  the  knees  bare.  These 
wooden  warders  held  great  swords,  or  maces,  in  their 
hands,  like  military  guards  on  duty.  Many  an  empty 
hook  and  brace,  along  the  walls  of  the  gloomy  apartment, 
marked  the  spots  from  which  arms,  long  preserved  as 
trophies,  had  been,  in  the  pressure  of  the  war,  once  more 
taken  down  to  do  service  in  the  field,  like  veterans  whom 
extremity  of  danger  recalls  to  battle.  On  other  rusty 
fastenings  were  still  displayed  the  hunting  trophies  of  the 
monarchs  to  whom  the  Lodge  belonged,  and  of  the  sylvan 
knights  to  whose  care  it  had  been  from  time  to  time 
confided. 

At  the  nether  end  of  the  hall,  a  huge,  heavy  stone- 
wrought  chimney-piece,  projected  itself  ten  feet  from  the 
wall,  adorned  with  many  a  cipher,  and  many  a  scutcheon 
of  the  Royal  House  of  England.  In  its  present  state, 
it  yawned  like  the  arched  mouth  of  a  funeral  vault,  or 
perhaps  might  be  compared  to  the  crater  of  an  extin- 
guished volcano.  But  the  sable  complexion  of  the  mas- 
sive stone-work,  and  all  around  it,  showed  that  the  time 
had  been  v*ben  it  sent  its  huge  fires  blazing  up  the  huge 
chininev,  besides  puffing  many  a  volume  of  smoke  over 
the  heads  of  the  jovial  guests,  whose  royalty  or  nobility 
did  not  render  them  sensitive  enough  to  quarrel  with  such 
slight  inconvenience.  On  these  occasions,  it  was  the 
tradition  of  the  house,  that  two  cartloads  of  wood  was 
the  regular  allowance  for  the  fire  between  noon  and  cur- 
few, and  the  andirons,  or  do2;s,  as  they  were  termed,  con- 
structed for  retaining  the  blazing  fire-wood  on  the  heajth, 
were  wrought  in  the  shape  of  lions  of  such  gigantic  size, 
as  might  well  warrant  the  legend.  There  were  long  seats 
of  stone  within  the  chimney,  where,  in  despite  of  the  tre- 
mendous heat,  monarchs   were   sometimes  said  to  have 


WOODSTOCK- 


45 


taken  their  station,  and  amused  themselves  with  broiling 
the  umblcs,  or  dowsets,  of  the  deer,  upon  the  glowing  em- 
bers, with  their  own  ro)  al  hands.  Tradition  was  here 
also  ready  with  her  record,  to  show  what  merry  gibes, 
such  as  might  be  exchanged  between  prince  and  peer,  had 
flown  about  at  the  merry  banquet  which  followed  the 
Michaelmas  hunt.  She  could  tell  too,  exactly,  where 
King  Stephen  sat  when  he  darned  his  own  piincely  hose, 
and  of  the  odd  tricks  he  had  put  upon  little  Winkin,  the 
tailor  of  Woodstock. 

Most  of  this  rude  revelry  belonged  to  the  Plantagenei 
times.  When  the  house  of  Tudor  acceded  to  tiie  throne, 
they  were  more  chary  of  their  royal  presence,  and  feast- 
ed in  halls  and' chambers  far  within,  abandoning  the  out- 
most hall  to  the  yeomen  of  the  guard,  who  mounted 
their  watch  there,  and  passed  away  the  night  wiih  wassail 
and  mirth,  exchanged  sometimes  for  frightful  tales  of  ap- 
paritions and  sorceries,  which  made  some  of  those  grow 
pale,  in  whose  ears  the  trumpet  of  a  French  foeman  would 
have  sounded  as  jollily  as  a  summons  to  the  woodland 
chase. 

Joceline  pointed  out  the  peculiarities  of  the  place  to  his 
gloomy  companion  more  briefly  than  we  have  detailed 
them  to  the  reader.  The  Independent  seemed  to  listen 
with  some  interest  at  first,  but,  flinging  it  suddenly  aside, 
he  said,  in  a  solemn  tone,  "  Perish  Babylon,  as  thy  mas- 
ter Nebuchadnezzar  hath  perislied  !  He  is  a  wanderer, 
and  thou  shaltbe  a  v,asle  place — yea,  and  a  wilderness — 
yea,  a  desert  of  salt,  in  which  there  shall  be  thirst  and 
famine." 

"  There  is  like* to  be  enough  of  both  to-night,"  said 
Joceline,  "  unless  the  good  Knight's  larder  be  somewhat 
fuller  than  it  is  wont." 

"  We  must  care  for  the  creature-comforts,"  said  the 
Independent,  "  but  in  due  season,  when  our  duties  are 
done. — Whither  lead  these  entrances  .^" 

"  That  to  the  right,"  replied  the  keeper,  "  leads  to 
what  are  called  the  state-apartments,  not  used  since  the 


46  ^VOODSTOCK. 

year  sixteen  hundred  and  thirty-nine,  when  his  blessed 
Majesty " 

"  How,  sir,"  interrupted  the  Independent,  in  a  voice 
of  thiinder,  *'  doest  thou  speak  of  Chailes  Stuart  as  bles- 
sing, or  blessed  f — beware  the  proclamation  to  that 
effect." 

"  I  meant  no  harm,"  answered  the  keeper,  suppres- 
sing liis  disposition  to  make  a  harsher  reply.  "  My  busi- 
ness is  with  bolts  and  bucks,  not  with  titles  and  state 
affairs.  But  yet,  whatever  may  have  happed  since,  that 
poor  King  was  followed  with  blessings  enouiih  from 
Woodstock,  for  he  left  a  glove  full  of  broad  pieces  for 
the  poor  of  the  place " 

''  Peace,  friend,"  said  the  Independent ;  "I  will  think 
thee  else  one  of  those  besotted  and  blinded  Papists,  who 
hold,  that  bestowing  of  alms  is  an  atonement  and  wash- 
ing away  of  the  wrongs  and  oppressions  which  have 
been  wrought  by  the  almsgiver.  Thou  sayest,  then, 
these  were  the  apartments  of  Charles  Stuart  ?" 

"  And  of  his  father,  James,  before  him,  and  Elizabeth 
before  him,  and  bluff  King  Henry,  who,  builded  that 
wing  before  them  all." 

"  And  there,  J  suppose,  the  Knight  and  his  daughter 
dweU?" 

''  No,"  replied  Joceline  ;  "  Sir  Henry  Lee  had  too 
much  reverence  for — for  things  which  are  now  thought 
worth  no  reverence  at  all — Besides,  the  state-rooms  are 
unaired,  and  in  indifferent  order,  since  of  late  years- 
The  Knight  Ranger's  apartment  lies  by  that  passage  to 
the  left." 

"  And  whither  goes  yonder  stair  w^ich  seems  both  to 
lead  upwards  and  downwards  ?" 

'<  Upwards,"  replied  the  keeper,  "  it  leads  to  many 
apartments,  used  for  various  purposes,  of  sleeping,  and 
other  accommodation.  Downwards  to  the  kitchen,  offi- 
ces, and  vaults  of  the  castle,  which  at  this  time  of  the 
evening,  you  cannot  see  without  lights." 


WOODSTOCK.  47 

"  We  will  to  the  apartments  of  your  Knight,  then," 
said  the  Independent.  "  Is  there  fitting  accoininodation 
there  ?" 

"  Such  as  has  served  a  person  of  condition,  whose 
lodging  is  now  worse  appointed,"  answered  the  lionest 
keeper,  his  bile  rising  so  fast  that  he  added,  in  a  muttering 
and  inaudible  tone,  "  so  it  may  well  serve  a  crop-eared 
knave  like  thee." 

He  acted  as  the  usher,  however,  and  led  on  towards 
the  ranger's  apartments. 

This  suite  opened  by  a  short  passage  from  the  hall, 
secured  at  time  of  need  by  two  oaken  doors,  which  could 
be  fastened  by  large  bais  of  the  same,  that  were  drawn 
out  of  the  wall,  and  entered  into  square  holes  contrived 
for  their  reception  on  the  other  side  of  the  portal.  At 
the  end  of  this  passage,  a  small  anti-room  received  them, 
into  which  opened  the  sitting  apartment  of  the  good  Knight 
— which,  in  the  style  of  the  times,  might  have  been  term- 
ed a  fair  summer  parlour,  lighted  by  two  oriel  windows, 
so  placed  as  to  command  each  of  them  a  separate  avenue, 
leading  distant  and  deep  down  into  the  forest.  The 
principal  ornament  of  tlie  apartment,  besides  two  or  three 
family  portraits  of  less  interest,  was  a  tall  full-length 
picture,  which  hung  above  the  chimney-piece,  which, 
like  that  in  the  hall,  was  of  heavy  stone-work,  ornament- 
ed with  carved  scutcheons,  emblazoned  with  various  de- 
vices. The  portrait  was  that  of  a  man  about  fifty  years 
of  age,  in  complete  plate  armour,  and  painted  in  the 
harsh  and  dry  manner  of  Holbein — probably,  indeed,  the 
work  of  that  artist,  as  the  dates  corresponded.  The  for- 
mal and  marked  angles,  points,  and  projections  of  the 
armour,  were  a  good  subject  for  the  harsh  pencil  of  that 
early  school.  The  face  of  the  Knight  was,  from  the 
fading  of  the  colours,  pale  and  dim,  like  that  of  some 
being  from  the  other  world,  yet  the  lines  exj)ressed  for- 
cibly pride  and  exultation.  He  pointed  with  his  leading- 
staff  or  truncheon  to  the  back  ground,  where  in  such  per- 
spective as  the  artist  possessed,  were  depicted  the  remains 
of  a  burning  church,   or   monastery,    and   four  or   five 


48  WOODSTOCK. 

soldiers,  in  red  cassocks,  bearing  away  in  triumph  what 
seerned  a  brazen  font  or  laver.  Above  their  heads  might 
be  traced  in  scroll,  "  Lee  T^ictor  sic  voluit^  Right 
opposite  to  the  picture  hung,  in  a  niche  in  the  wall,  a 
complete  set  of  tilting  armour,  the  black  and  gold  colours, 
and  ornaments  of  which,  exactly  corresponded  with  those 
exhibited  in  the  portrait. 

The  picture  was  one  of  those  which,  from  something 
marked  in  the  features  and  expression,  attract  the  ob- 
servation even  of  those  who  are  ignorant  of  art.  The 
Independent  looked  at  it  until  a  smile  passed  transiently 
over  his  clouded  brow.  Whether  he  smiled  to  see  the 
grim  old  cavalier  employed  in  desecrating  a  religious 
house — (an  occupation  much  conforming  to  the  practice 
of  his  own  sect) — whether  he  smiled  in  contempt  of  the 
old  painter's  harsh  and  dry  mode  of  working — or  whether 
the  sight  of  this  remarkable  portrait  revived  some  other 
ideas,  the  under-keeper  could  not  decide. 

The  smile  passed  away  in  an  instant,  as  the  soldier 
looked  to  the  oriel  windows.  The  recesses  within  them 
were  raised  a  step  or  two  from  the  wall.  In  one  was 
placed  a  walnut  tree  reading-desk,  and  a  huge  stuffed 
arm-chair,  covered  with  Spanish  leather.  A  little  cabinet 
stood  beside,  with  some  of  its  shuttles  and  drawers  open, 
displaying  hawks-bells,  dog-whistles,  instruments  for  trim- 
ming a  falcon's  feathers,  bridle-bits  of  various  construc- 
tions, and  other  trifles  connected  with  sylvan  sport. 

The  other  little  recess  was  differently  furnished. 
There  lay  some  articles  of  needle-work  on  a  small  table, 
besides  a  lute,  with  a  book  having  some  airs  pricked  down 
in  it,  and  a  frame  for  working  embroidery.  Some  tap- 
estry was  displayed  around  the  recess,  with  more  atten- 
tion to  ornament  than  was  visible  in  the  rest  of  the  apart- 
ment ;  the  arrangement  of  a  few  bow-pots,  with  such 
flowers  as  the  fading  season  afforded,  showed  also  the 
superintendence  of  female  taste. 

Tomkins  cast  an  eye  of  careless  regard  upon  these 
subjects  of  female  occupation,  then  stepped  into  the  far- 
ther window,   and  began   to  turn   the  leaves  of  a  folio> 


WOODSTOCK.  49 

which  lay  open  on  the  reading-desk,  apparently  with  some 
interest.  Joceline,  who  had  determined  to  watch  his 
motions  without  interfering  with  them,  was  standing  at 
some  distance  in  dejected  silence,  when  a  door  behind 
the  tapestry  suddenly  opened,  and  a  pretty  village  maid 
tripped  out  with  a  napkin  in  her  hand,  as  if  she  liad  been 
aboiit  some  household  duty. 

"  How  now.  Sir  Impudence  ?"  she  said  to  Joceline, 
in  a  smart  tone  ;  "  what  do  you  here  prowling  about  the 
apartments  when  the  master  is  not  at  home  ?" 

But  instead  of  the  answer  which  peihaps  she  expect- 
ed, Joceline  Joliffe  cast  a  mournful  glance  towards  the 
soldier  in  the  oriel  window,  as  if  to  make  what  he  said 
fully  intelligible,  and  replied  with  a  dejected  appearance 
and  voice,  "  Alack,  my  pretty  Phoebe,  there  come 
those  here  that  have  more  right  or  might  than  any  of  us, 
and  will  nse  little  ceremony  in  coming  when  they  will, 
and  staying  while  they  please." 

He  darted  another  glance  atTomkins,  who  still  seem- 
ed busy  with  the  book  before  him,  then  sidled  close  to 
the  astonished  girl,  who  had  continued  looking  alternately 
at  the  keeper  and  at  the  stranger,  as  if  she  had  been 
unable  to  understand  the  words  of  the  first,  or  to  com- 
prehend the  meaning  of  the  second  being  present. 

*'  Go,"  whispered  Joliffe,  approaching  his  m.outh  so 
near  her  cheek,  that  his  breath  waved  the  curls  of  her 
hair;  "go,  my  dearest  Phabe,  trip  it  as  fast  as  a  fawn 
down  to  my  lodge — 1  will  soon  be  there,  and " 

"Your  lodge,  indeed  !"  said  Phoebe  ;  "  you  are  very 
bold,  for  a  poor  killbuck  that  never  frightened  any  thing 
before  save  a  dun  deer — Yowr  lodge,  indeed  ! — I  am  like 
to  go  there,  I  think." 

"  Hush,  hush  !  Phoebe — here  is  no  time  for  jesting. 
Down  to  my  hut,  I  say,  like  a  deer,  for  the  Knight  and 
Mrs.  Alice  are  both  there,  and  I  fear  will  not  return  hith- 
er again.  All's  naught,  girl — and  our  evil  days  are  come 
at  last  with  a  vengeance — we  are  fairly  at  bay  and  fairly 
hunted  down." 

5       VOL.    I. 


S>0 


WOODSTOCK. 


"  Can  this  be,  Joceline  ?"  said  the  poor  girl,  turning 
to  the  keeper  with  an  expression  of  fright  in  her  coun- 
tenance, wliich  she  Jjad  hitherto  averted  in  rural  co- 
quetry. 

''  As  sure,  my  dearest  Phoebe,  as " 

The  rest  of  the  asseveration  was  lost  in  Phffibe's  ear, 
so  closely  did  the  keeper's  lips  approach  it ;  and  if  rhey 
a])proached  so  very  near  as  to  touch  her  cheek,  grief,  like 
impatience,  hath  its  privileges,  and  poor  Phoebe  had 
enough  of  serious  alarm  to  prevent  her  from  demurring 
upo;i  such  a  triHe. 

But  no  trifle  was  the  approach  of  Joceline's  lips  to 
Piioebe's  pretty  though  sun-burnt  cheek,  in  the  estima- 
tion of  the  Independent,  who,  a  little  before  the  object 
of  Joceline's  vigilance,  had  been  in  his  turn  the  observer 
of  the  keeper's  demeanour,  so  soon  as  the  interview  be- 
twixt Phoebe  and  him  had  become  so  interesting.  And 
when  he  remarked  the  closeness  of  Joceline's  argument, 
he  raised  his  voice  to  a  pitch  of  harshness  that  would 
have  rivalled  that  of  a  saw,  and  which  at  once  made  Jo- 
celine and  Phoebe  spring  six  feet  apart  each  in  contrary 
directions,  and  if  Cupid  was  of  the  party,  must  have  sent 
him  out  at  the  window  like  a  wild-duck  flying  from  a 
culverin.  Instantly  throwing  himself  into  the  attitude  of 
a  preacher  and  reprover  of  vice,  "  How  now  !"  he  ex- 
claimed, "  shameless  and  impudent  as  you  are  ! — What 
— chambering  and  wantoning  in  our  very  presence  ! — 
How — would  you  play  your  pranks  before  the  steward  of 
the  Commissioners  of  the  High  Court  of  Parliament,  as 
ye  would  in  a  booth  at  the  fulsome  fair,  or  amidst  the 
trappings  and  tracings  of  a  profane  dancing-school, 
where  the  scoundrel  minstrels  make  their  ungodly  vvea 
pons  to  squeak,  '  Kiss  and  be  kind,  the  fiddler's  blind  .'" 
—  But  here,"  he  said,  dealing  a  perilous  thump  upon  the 
volume — "  Here  is  the  King  and  high  priest  of  those  vices 
and  follies!— Here  is  he,  whom  men  of  folly  profanely 
call  nature's  miracle! — Here  is  he, whom  princes  chose 
for  their  cabinet- keeper,  and  whom  maids  of  honour 
take  for  their  bed-fellow  ! — Here  is  the  prime  teacher  of 


WOODSTOCK.  51- 

fine  words,  foppery  and  folly — Here  !" — (dealing  another 
thump  upon  the  volume — and  oh  !  revered  of  the  Rox- 
burghe,  it  was  the  first  folio — beloved  of  the  Bannatyne, 
it  was  Hemmings  and  Condel — it  was  the  ediiio  prin- 
ceps) — "  On  thee,"  he  continued — "  on  thee,  William 
Shakspeare,  1  charge  whatever  of  such  lawless  idleness 
and  iuimodest  folly  hath  defiled  the  land  since  thy  day  !" 

"  By  the  mass,  a  heavy  accusation,"  said  Joceline,  the 
bold  recklessness  of  whose  temper  could  not  be  long 
overawed  ;  "  Odds  pitlikins,  is  our  master's  old  favour- 
ite, Will  of  Stratford,  to  answer  for  every  buss  that  has 
been  snatched  since  James's  time  f — a  perilous  reckon- 
ing truly — but  1  wonder  who  is  sponsible  lor  what  lads  and 
lasses  did  before  his  day  f " 

"  ScofF  not,"  said  the  soldier,  "  lest  I,  being  called 
thereto  by  the  voice  within  me,  do  deal  with  thee  as  a 
scorner.  Verily  I  say,  that  since  the  devil  fell  from  Hea- 
ven, he  never  wanted  agents  on  earth  ;  yet  nowb.ere  hath 
he  met  with  a  wizard  having  such  infinite  power  over 
men's  souls  as  this  pestilent  fellow  Shakspeare.  Seeks 
a  wife  a  foul  example  for  adultery,  here  she  shall  find 
it — Would  a  man  know  how  to  train  his  fellow  to  be  a 
murderer,  here  shall  he  find  tutoring — Would  a*  lady 
marry  a  heathen  negro,  she  shall  have  chronicled  exam- 
ple for  it — Would  any  one  scorn  at  his  Maker,  he  shall 
be  furnished  with  a  jest  in  this  book — W' ould  he  defy  his 
brother  in  the  flesh,  he  shall  be  accommodated  with  a 
challenge — Would  you  be  drunk,  Shakspeare  will  cheer 
you  with  a  cup — Would  you  plunge  in  sensual  pleasures, 
he  will  soothe  you  to  indulgence,  as  with  the  lascivious 
sounds  of  a  lute.  This,  I  say,  this  book  is  the  well-head 
and  source  of  all  those  evils  which  have  overrun  the  land 
hke  a  torrent,  making  men  scoffers,  doubters,  deniers, 
murderers,  makebates,  and  lovers  of  the  wine-pot,  haunt- 
ing unclean  places,  and  sitting  long  at  the  evening-wine. 
Away  with  him,  away  with  him,  men  of  England  !  to 
Topliet  with  his  wicked  book,  and  to  the  Vale  of  Hin- 
nonQ  with  his  accursed  bones  !   Verily  but  that  our  march 


^^  WOODSTOCK. 

was  hasty  when  we  passed  Stratford,  In  the  year  1643, 
with  Sir  VViihani  Waller  ;  but  that  our  march  was  hasty — " 

"  Because  Prince  Rupert  was  after  you  with  his 
cavaliers,"  muttered  the  incorrigible  Joceline. 

"  I  say,"  continued  the  zealous  trooper,  raising  his 
voice  and  extending  his  arm — "  but  that  our  march  was 
by  command  hasty,  and  that  we  turned  not  aside  in  our 
riding,  closing  our  ranks  each  one  upon  the  other  as  be- 
comes men  ol  war,  1  had  torn  on  that  day  the  bones  of 
that  preceptor  of  vice  and  debauchery  from  the  grave, 
and  given  them  to  the  next  dunghill.  1  would  have  made 
his  memory  a  scoff  and  a  hissing  !" 

"  That  is  the  bitterest  thing  he  has  said  yet,"  observed 
the  keeper.  "  Poor  Will  would  have  liked  the  hissing 
worse  than  all  the  rest." 

"  Will  the  gentleman  say  any  more  .^"  inquired  Phoebe 
in  a  whisper.  "  Laek-a-day,  he  talks  brave  words,  if 
one  knew  but  what  they  meant.  But  it  is  a  mercy  our 
good  Knight  did  not  see  him  ruffle  the  book  at  that  rate 
— Mercy  on  us,  there  would  certainly  have  been  blood- 
shed.— But  oh  the  father — see  how  he  is  twisting  his  face 
about  ! — Is  he  ill  of  the  colic,  think'st  thou,  Joceline  I 
Or,  m*ay  1  offer  him  a  glass  of  strong  waters  .^" 

"  H.irk  thee  hither,  wench!"  said  ihe  keeper,  "he 
is  but  loading  his  blunderbuss  for  another  volley ;  and 
while  he  turns  up  his  eyes,  and  twists  about  his  face,  and 
clenches  his  fist,  and  shuffles  and  tramples  with  his  feet  in 
that  fashion,  he  is  bound  to  take  no  notice  of  any  thing. 
I  would  be  sworn  to  cut  his  purse,  if  he  had  one,  from 
his  side,  without  his  feelin":  it." 

"  La  !  Joceline."  said  Phoebe,  "  and  if  he  abides  here 
in  this  turn  of  times,  I  dare  say  the  gentleman  will  be 
easily  served." 

"Care  not  thou  about  that,"  said  Joliffe  ;  "but  tell 
me  softly  and  hastily,  what  is  in  the  pantry  V^ 

"  Small  house-keeping  eiio  igh,"  said  Phoebe,  "  a  cold 
capon  and  some  comfits,  and  the  great  standing  venison 
pasty,  with  plenty  of  spice — a  manchet  or  two  besides, 
and  that  is  all." 


WOODSTOCK.  53 

"  Well,  it  will  serve  for  a  pinch — wrap  thy  cloak  round 
thy  comely  body — get  a  basket  and  a  brace  of  trenchers 
and  towels,  they  are  heinously  impoverished  down  yon- 
der— carry  down  the  capon  and  the  manchets — the  pasty 
must  abide  with  this  same  soldier  and  nne,  and  the  pie- 
crust will  serve  us  for  bread." 

"  Rarely,"  said  Phoebe  ;  *'  I  made  the  paste  myself 
— it  is  as  thick  as  the  walls  of  Fair  Rosamond's  Tower." 

"  Which  two  pair  of  jaws  would  be  long  in  gnawing 
through,  work  hard  as  they  might,"  said  the  keeper. 
"  But  what  liquor  is  there  f" 

"  Only  a  bottle  of  Alicant,  and  one  of  sack,  with  the 
stone  jug  of  strong  waters,"  answered  Phcebe. 

"  Put  the  wine-flasks  into  thy  basket,"  said  Joceline, 
*'  the  Knight  must  not  lack  his  evening  draught — and 
down  with  thee  to  the  hut  like  a  lapwing.  There  is 
enough  for  supper,  and  to-morrow  is  a  new  day.  Ha ! 
by  heaven  I  thought  yonder  man's  eye  watched  us — No 
— he  only  rolled  it  round  him  in  a  brown  study — Deep 
enough  doubtless  as  they  all  are.  But  d — n  him,  he 
must  be  bottomless  if  1  cannot  sound  him  before  the 
night's  out.     Hie  thee  away,  Phoebe." 

But  Phoebe  was  a  rural  coquette,  and,  aware  that 
Joceline's  situation  gave  him  no  advantage  of  avenging 
the  challenge  In  a  fitting  way,  she  whispered  in  his  ear, 
*'  Do  you  think  our  Knight's  friend,  Shakspeare,  really 
found  out  all  these  naughty  devices  the  gentleman  spoke 

Off  she  darted  while  she  spoke,  while  Joliffe  menaced 
future  ven2;eance  with  his  finger,  as  he  muttered,  "  Go 
thy  way,  Phoebe  Mayflower,  the  lightest-footed  and  light- 
est-hearted wench  that  ever  tripped  the  sod  in  Woodstock- 
park  ! — After  her,  Bevis,  and  bring  her  safe  to  our  master 
at  the  hut." 

The  large  greyhound  arose  like  a  human  servitor 
who  had  received  an  order,  and  followed  Phoebe  through 
the  hall,  first  licking  her  hand  to  niake  her  sensible  of 
his  presence,  and  then  putting  himself  to  a  slow  trot,  so 

5*       VOL,    I. 


54  WOODSTOCK. 

as  best  to  accomtnodate  himself  to  the  light  pace  of  her 
whom  he  convoyed,  whom  Jocehne  had  not  extolled  for 
her  activity  without  due  reason.  While  Phoebe  and  her 
guardian  thread  the  forest  glades,  we  return  to  the  lodge. 

The  Independent  now  seemed  to  start  as  if  from  a 
reverie.     "  Is  the  young  woman  gone  ?"  said  he. 

"  Ay,  marry  is  she,"  said  the  keeper  ;  "  and  if  your 
worship  hath  farther  commands,  you  must  rest  contented 
with  male  attendance." 

*'  Commands — umph — T  think  the  damsel  might  have 
tarried  for  another  exhortation,"  said  the  soldier — "  truly, 
1  profess  my  mind  was  much  inclined  toward  her  for  her 
edification." 

"  Oh,  sir,"  replied  JolifFe,  "  she  will  be  at  church 
next  Sunday,  and  if  your  military  reverence  is  pleased 
again  to  hold  forth  among  us,  she  will  have  use  of  the 
doctrine  with  the  rest.  But  young  maidens  of  these 
parts  hear  no  private  homilies.  And  what  is  now  your 
pleasure  ^  Will  you  look  at  the  other  rooms,  and  at  the 
lew  plate  articles  u'hich  have  been  left  f" 

"  Umph — no,"  said  the  Independent — "  it  wears  late, 
and  gets  dark — thou  hast  the  means  of  giving  us  beds, 
friend  ?" 

"  Better  you  never  slept  in,"  replied  the  keeper. 

**  And  wood  for  a  fire,  and  a  light,  and  some  small 
pittance  of  creature-comforts  for  refreshment  of  the  out- 
ward man  ?"  continued  the  soldier. 

"  Without  doubt,"  replied  the  keeper,  displaying  a 
prudent  anxiety  to  gratify  this  important  personage. 

In  a  few  minutes  a  great  standing  candlestick  was 
placed  on  an  oaken  table.  The  mighty  venison  pasty, 
adorned  wilh  parsley,  was  placed  on  the  board  on  a  clean 
napkin  ;  the  stone-bottle  of  strong  waters,  with  a  black- 
jack full  of  ale,  formed  Comfortable  appendages  ;  and  to 
this  meal  sat  down  in  social  manner  the  soldier  occupy- 
ing a  great  elbow  chair,  and  the  keeper,  at  his  invitation 
using  the  more  lowly  accommodation  of  a  stool,  at  the 
opposite  side  of  the  table.  Thus  agreeably  employed 
our  history  leaves  them  for  the  present. 


WOODSTOCK.  o5 


CHAPTER  IV. 


-'•  Yon  path  of  greensward 


Winds  round  by  sparry  grot  and  gay  pavilion  ; 
There  is  no  fliut  to  gall  tby  lender  foot, 
There's  ready  shelter  from  each  breeze,  or  shower. — 
But  Duly  guiiies  not  thai  way — see  her  stand, 
With  wand  entwined  with  amaranth,  near  yon  cliffs. 
Oft  where  she  leads  thy  blood  must  mark  thy  footsteps, 
Oft  where  she  loads  thy  head  must  bear  the  storm, 
And  thy  shrunk  form  endure  heat,  cold,  and  hunger  ; 
But  she  will  guide  thee  up  to  noble  heights, 
Which  he  who  gains  seems  native  of  the  sky. 
While  earthly  things  liestretch'd  beneath  his  feet, 
Diminish 'd,  shrunk,  and  valueless. Anomjmous. 

The  reader  cannot  have  forgotten  that  after  his  souffle 
with  the  commonwealih  soldier,  Sir  Henry  Lee,  with  his 
daughter  Alice,  had  departed  to  take  refuge  in  the  hut 
of  the  stout  keeper  JocelineJoliffe.  They  walked  slow, 
as  before,  for  the  old  Knight  was  at  once  oppressed  by 
perceiving  these  last  vestiges  of  royally  fall  into  the  hands 
of  republicans,  and  by  the  recollection  of  his  recent  de- 
feat. A^  times  he  paused,  and  with  his  arms  folded  on 
his  bosom,  recalled  all  the  circumstances  attending  his 
expulsion  from  a  house  so  long  his  home.  It  seemed  to 
him  that,  like  the  champions  of  romance  of  whom  he  had 
sometimes  read,  he  himself  was  retiring  from  the  post 
which  it  was  his  duty  to  guard,  defeated  by  a  Paynim 
Knight,  for  whom  the  adventure  had  been  reserved  by 
Fate.  Alice  had  her  own  painful  subjects  of  recollection, 
nor  had  the  tenor  of  her  last  conversation  with  her  father 
been  so  pleasant  as  to  make  her  anxious  to  renew  it 
until  his  temper  should  be  more  composed  ;  for,  with  an 
excellent  disposition,  and  much  love  to  his  daughter,  age 
and  misfortunes,  which  of  Inte  came  thicker  and  thicker, 
had  given   to  the  good  Knight's  passions  a  wayward  ir- 


56  WOODSTOCK. 

ritability  which  was  unknown  to  his  belter  days.  His 
daughter,  and  one  or  two  attached  servants,  who  still  fol- 
lowed his  decayed  fortunes,  soothed  his  frailty  as  much 
as  possible,  and  pitied  him  even  while  they  suffered  under 
its  effects. 

It  was  a  long  time  ere  he  spoke,  and  then  he  referred 
to  an  incident  already  noticed.  "  It  is  strange."  he  said, 
*'  that  Bevis  should  have  followed  Joceline  and  that  fel- 
low rather  than   me." 

"  Assure  yourself,  sir,"  replied  Alice,  "  that  his  sa- 
gacity saw  in  this  man  a  stranger,  whom  he  thought  him- 
self obliged  to  watch  circumspectly,  and  therefore  he 
remained  with  Joceline." 

"  Not  so,  Alice,"  answered  Sir  Henry  ;  *'  he  leaves 
me  because  my  fortunes  have  fled  from  me.  There  is  a 
feeling  in  nature,  affecting  even  the  instinct,  as  it  is  call- 
ed, of  dumb  animals,  which  teaches  them  to  fly  from 
misfortune.  The  very  deer  there  will  butt  a  sick  or 
wounded  buck  from  the  herd  ;  hurt  a  dog,  and  the  wliole 
kennel  will  fall  on  him  and  worry  him  ;  fishes  devour 
their  own  kind  when  they  are  wounded  with  a  spear  ;  cut 
a  crov.''s  wing,  or  break  his  leg,  the  others  will  buffet  it 
to  death." 

"  That  may  be  true  of  the  more  irrational  kinds  of 
animals  among  each  otljer,"  said  Alice,  "  for  their  whole 
life  is  well  nigh  a  v/a/fare  ;  but  the  dog  leaves  his  own 
race  to  attach  himself  to  ours  ;  forsakes,  for  his  master, 
the  company,  food,  and  pleasure  of  his  own  kind  ;  and 
surely  the  fidefity  of  such  a  devoted  and  voluntary  ser- 
vant as  Bevis  halh  been  in  particular,  ought  not  to  be 
lightly  suspected." 

"  I  am  not  angry  at  the  dog,  Alice  ;  I  am  only  sorry," 
replied  her  father.  "  I  have  read,  in  faithful  chronicles, 
that  when  Richard  II.  and  Henry  of  Bolingbroke  were 
at  Berkeley  Castle,  a  dog  of  the  same  kind  deserted  the 
King,  whom  he  had  always  attended  upon,  and  attached 
himself  to  Henry,  whom  he  then  saw  for  tlie  first  time. 
Richard  foretold,  from  the  desertion  of  his  favourite,  his 
approaching  deposition.      The  dog  was  afterwards  kept 


WOODSTOCK.  57 

at  Woodstock,  and  Bevis  is  said  to  be  of  his  breed, 
which  was  heedluily  ke[)t  up.  What  1  might  foretell  of 
mischief  from  his  desertion,  I  cannot  guess,  but  my  mind 
assures  me  it  bodes  no  good." 

There  was  a  distant  rusthng  among  the  withered  leaves, 
a  bouncing  or  galloping  sound  on  the  path,  and  the  fa- 
vourite dog  instantly  joined  his  master. 

"  Come  into  court,  old  knave,"  said  Alice  cheerfully, 
'*  and  defend  thy  character,  which  is  well  nigh  endanger- 
ed by  this  absence,"  but  the  dog  only  paid  her  courtesy 
by  gambolling  around  them,  and  instantly  plunged  back 
again,  as  fast  as  he  could  scamper. 

"  How  now,  knave  ?"  said  the  Knight  ;  "  thou  art 
too  well  trained,  surely,  to  lake  up  the  chase  without  or- 
ders." A  minute  more  showed  them  Phoebe  Mayflower 
approaching,  her  light  pace  so  little  impeded  by  the  bur- 
then whicli  she  bore,  that  she  joined  her  master  and  young 
mistress  just  as  they  arrived  at  the  keeper's  hut,  which 
was  the  boundary  of  their  journey.  Bevis,  who  had  shot 
a-head  to  pay  his  compliments  to  Sir  Henry  his  master, 
had  returned  again  to  his  immediate  duty,  the  escorting 
Phoebe  and  her  cargo  of  provisions.  The  whole  party 
stood  presently  assembled  before  the  door  of  the  keeper's 
hut. 

In  better  times,  a  substantial  stone  habitation,  fit  for  the 
yeoman-keeper  of  a  royal  walk,  had  adorned  this  place. 
A  fair  spring  gushed  out  near  the  spot,  and  once  traver- 
sed yards  and  courts,  attached  to  well-built  and  conven- 
ient kennels  and  mews.  But  in  some  of  the  skirmishes 
which  were  common  through  the  whole  country  during 
the  civil  wars,  this  little  sylvan  dwelling  had  been  attack- 
ed and  defended,  stormed  and  burnt.  A  neighbouring 
squire  of  the  parliamentarian  side  of  the  question,  took 
advantage  of  Sir  Plenry  Lee's  absence,  who  was  in 
Charles's  camp,  and  of  the  decay  of  the  royal  cause, 
and  had,  without  scruple,  carried  off  the  hewn  stones,  and 
such  building  materials  as  the  fire  left  unconsumed,  and 
repaired  his  own  manor-house  with  them.  The  yeo- 
man-keeper, therefore,  our  friend  Joceline,  had  construct- 


58  M'OOD  STOCK. 

ed  for  his  own  accommcniation,  and  that  of  the  old  woman 
lie  called  his  dame,  a  wattled  hut,  such  as  his  own  labour, 
with  that  of  a  neighbour  or  two,  had  erected  in  the 
course  of  a  few  days.  The  walls  were  plastered  with 
clay,  white-washefH  and  covered  with  vines  and  other 
creeping  plants  ;  the  roof  was  neatly  thatched,  and  the 
whole,  though  merely  a  hut,  had,  by  the  neat-handed 
Joliffe,  been  so  arranged  as  not  to  disgrace  the  condition 
of  the  dweller. 

The  Knight  advanced  to  the  entrance  ;  but  the  inge- 
nuity of  the  architect,  for  want  of  better  lock  to  the 
door,  which  itself  was  but  of  wattles  curiously  twisted, 
had  contrived  a  mode  of  securing  the  latch  on  the  inside 
with  a  pin,  which  prevented  it  from  rising  ;  and  in  this 
manner  it  was  at  present  fastened.  Conceiving  that  this 
was  some  precaution  of  JolifFe's  old  house-keeper,  of 
whose  deafness  they  were  all  av^^are.  Sir  Henry  raised  his 
voice  to  demand  admittance,  but  in  vain.  Irritated  at 
this  delay,  he  pressed  the  door  at  once  with  foot  and  hand, 
in  a  way  which  the  frail  barrier  was  unable  to  resist  ;  it 
gave  way  accordingly,  and  the  Knight  thus  forcibly  en- 
tered the  kitchen,  or  outward  apartment,  of  his  servant. 
In  the  midst  of  the  floor,  and  with  a  posture  which  indi- 
cated embarrassment,  stood  a  youthful  stranger,  in  a 
riding-suit. 

"  This  n)ay  be  my  last  act  of  authority  here,"  said  the 
Knight,  seizing  the  stranger  by  the  collar,  "  but  I  am  still 
Ranger  of  Woodstock  for  this  night  at  least — Who,  or 
what  art  thou  ?" 

The  stranger  dropped  the  riding-mantle  in  which  his 
face  was  muffled,  and  at  the  same  time  fell  on  one  knee. 

"  Your  poor  kinsman,  Markham  Everard,"  he  said, 
**  who  came  hither  for  your  sake,  although  he  fears  you 
will  scarce  make  him  welcome  for  his  own." 

Sir  Henry  started  back,  but  recovered  himself  in  an 
instant,  as  one  who  recollected  that  he  had  a  part  of  dig- 
nity to  perform.  He  stood  erect,  therefore,  and  replied, 
with  considerable  assumption  of  stately  ceremony  : 


WOODSTOCK.  59 

"  Fair  kinsman,  it  pleases  me  that  you  are  come  to 
Woodstock  upon  the  very  first  night  that,  lor  many  years 
which  have  past,  is  hkely  to  promise  you  a  worthy  or  a 
welcome  reception." 

"  Now  God  grant  it  be  so,  that  I  rightly  hear  and  duly 
understand  you,"  said  tiie  young  man  ;  while  Alice, 
though  she  was  silent,  kept  her  looks  fixed  on  her  father's 
face,  as  if  desirous  to  know  whether  his  meaning  was 
kind  towards  his  nephew,  which  her  knowledge  of  his 
character  inclined  her  greatly  to  doubt. 

The  Knight  meanwhile  darted  a  sardonic  look,  first  on 
his  neplievv,  then  on  his  daughter,  and  proceeded — "  I 
need  not,  I  presume,  inform  Mr.  IMarkham  Everard  that 
it  cannot  be  our  purpose  to  entertain  him,  or  even  to  offer 
him  a  seat  in  this  poor-hut." 

"  1  will  attend  you  most  w^illingly  to  the  Lodge,"  said 
the  young  gentleman.  "  I  had,  indeed,  judged  you  were 
already  there  for  the  evening,  and  feared  to  intrude  upon 
you.  But  if  you  would  permit  me,  my  dearest  uncle,  to 
escort  my  kinswoman  and  you  back  to  the  Lodge,  believe 
me,  amongst  all  which  you  have  so  often  done  of  good 
and  kind,  you  never  conferred  benefit  that  will  be  so 
dearly  prized." 

"  You  mistake  me  greatly,  Mr.  Markham  Everard," 
replied  the  Knight.  "  It  is  not  our  purpose  to  return  to 
the  Lodge  to-night,  nor,  by  Our  Lady,  to-morrow  neither. 
I  meant  but  to  intimate  to  you,  in  all  courtesy,  that  at 
Woodstock  Lodge  you  will  find  those  for  whom  you  are  a 
fitting  society,  and  who,  doubtless,  will  afford  you  a  willing 
w^elcome  ;  which  1,  sir,  in  this  my  present  retreat,  do  not 
presume  to  offer  to  a  person  of  your  consequence." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,"  said  the  young  man,  turning  to 
Alice,  "  tell  me  how  1  am  to  understand  language  so 
mysterious." 

Alice,  to  prevent  his  increasing  the  restrained  anger  of 
her  father,  compelled  herself  to  answer,  thouah  it  was 
with  difficulty,  "  We  are  expelled  from  the  Lodge  by 
soldiers."  ^ 


60  WOODSTOCK. 

"  Expelled — by  soldiers  !"  exclaimed  Everard,  in 
surprise — "  there  is  no  legal  warrant  for  this." 

"  None  at  all,"  answered  the  Knight,  in  the  same  tone 
of  cutting  irony  which  he  had  all  along  used,  "  and  yet 
as  lawful  a  warrant,  as  for  aught  that  has  been  wrought 
in  England  this  twelvemonth  and  more.  You  are,  I  think, 
or  were,  an  Inns-of-Court  man — marry,  sir,  your  enjoy- 
ment of  your  profession  is  like  that  lease  which  a  prodigal 
wishes  to  have  of  a  wealthy  widow.  You  have  already 
survived  the  law  which  you  studied,  and  its  expiry  doubt- 
less has  not  been  without  a  legacy — some  decent  pick- 
ings, some  merciful  increases,  as  the  phrase  goes.  You 
have  deserved  it  two  ways — you  wore  buff  and  banda- 
lier,  as  well  as  w^ielded  pen  and  ink — I  have  not  heard 
if  you   held  forth  too." 

*'  Think  of  me  and  speak  of  me  as  harshly  as  you 
will,  sir,"  said  Everard,  submissively,  "  I  have  but,  in 
this  evil  time,  guided  myself  by  my  conscience,  and  my 
father's  commands." 

"  O,  an  you  talk  of  conscience,"  said  ihe  old  Knight, 
"  I  must  have  mine  eye  upon  you,  as  Hamlet  says. 
Never  yet  did  Puritan  cheat  so  grossly  as  when  he  was 
appealing  to  his  conscience  ;  and  as  for  iUy  father " 

He  was  about  to  proceed  in  a  tone  of  the  same  invec- 
tive, when  the  young  man  interrupted  him,  by  saying,  in 
a  firm  tone,  "  Sir  Henry  Lee,  you  have  ever  been  thought 
noble — Say  of  me  what  you  will,  but  speak  not  of  my  fath- 
er what  the  ear  of  a  son  should  not  endure,  and  which  yet 
his  arm  cannot  resent.  To  do  me  such  wrong  is  to  insult 
an  unarmed  man,  or  to  beat  a  captive." 

Sir  Henry  paused,  as  if  struck  by  the  remark.  '*  Thou 
hast  spoken  truth  in  that,  Mark,  wert  thou  the  blackest 
Puritan  whom  hell  ever  vomited,  to  distract  an  unhappy 
country." 

"  Be  that  as  you  will  to  think  it,"  replied  Everard  ; 
"  but  let  me  not  leave  you  to  the  shelter  of  this  wretched 
hovel. ^  The  night  is  drawing  to  storm — let  me  but  con- 
duct you  to  the  Lodge,  and  expel  these  intruders,  who 
can  as  yet  at  least  have  no  warrant  for  what  they  do.     I 


WOODSTOCK.  <5l 

will  not  linger  a  moment  behind  them,  save  just  to  tiellver 
my  Auher's  message. — Giant  me  but  this  much  Ibr  tlie 
love  }'ou  once  bore  me  !" 

"  Yes,  i\Iark,"  ansuered  his  uncle,  firmly,  but  sorrow- 
fully, *'  thou  speakest  truth — 1  did  love  thee  once.  The 
bright-haired  boy  vvhjm  I  taught  to  ride,  to  shoot,  to 
hunt — whose  hours  of  happiness  were  spent  witii  me 
wherever  those  of  giaver  labours  weie  employed — 1  did 
love  that  boy — ay,  and  1  am  weak  enough  to  love  even 
the  memory  of  what  he  was. — But  he  is  gone,  Maik — 
he  is  gone  ;  and  in  his  room  1  only  behold  an  avoued 
and  determined  rebel  to  his  religion  and  to  his  kii^ii: — a 
rebel  more  detestable  on  account  of  his  success,  the 
more  infamous  through  the  phmdered  wealth  with  which 
he  hopes  to  gild  his  villany. — But  I  am  poor,  thou  think'st, 
and  should  hold  my  peace,  lest  men  say,  '  Speak,  sinah, 
when  you  should.'  Know,  hovrever,  that  indigeiM  and 
pluiidered  as  I  am,  I  feel  myself  dishonoured  in  lioldiu'g 
even  but  this  m.ucli  talk  with  the  tool  of  usurping  rebels. 
— Go  to  the  Lodge,  if  thou  wilt — yonder  lies  the  way — 
but  think  not  that  to  regain  rr.y  dwelling  there,  or  all  ihe 
wealth  I  ever  possessed  in  my  wealthiest  days,  ]  would 
willingly  accompany  thee  three  steps  on  tlie  gjcenswnrd. 
If  I  must  be  thy  companion,  it  shall  be  only  when  thy 
red-coats  have  tied  m}  hands  behind  me,  and  Immd  my 
legs  beneath  my  horse's  belly.  Thou  may'st  be  nty  ftl- 
low-traveller  then,  1  grant  thee,  if  thou  wilt,  but  i:ot 
sooner." 

Alice,  who  suffered  cruelly  during  this  dialos'ue,  and 
was  well  aware  that  farther  argimient  would  only  kindle 
the  Knight's  resentment  still  more  highly,  ventured  at 
last,  in  her  anxiety,  to  make  a  sign  to  her  cousin  to  bi  eak 
off  the  interview,  and  to  retire,  since  her  father  com- 
manded his  absence  in  a  manner  so  peremptory.  Un- 
happily she  was  observed  by  Sir  Heniy,  who,  concluding 
that  what  he  saw  was  evidence  of  a  private  understand- 
ing betwixt  the  cousins,  his  wrath  ncqiiired  new  i'ue]^  and 
It  required   the   utmost   exertion   of  sell'-command,  and 

6       VOL.    I. 


^>^  WOUDPJTOCX. 

recollection  of  all  lliat  was  due  to  bis  own  dignity,  to 
enable  him  to  veil  his  real  fury  under  the  same  ironical 
manner  vvhich  he  had  adojjted  at  the  beginning  of  this 
angry  interview. 

"  If  thou  art  afraid,"  he  said,  "  to  trace  our  forest- 
glades  by  night,  respected  stranger,  to  whom  1  am  perhaps 
bound  to  do  honoin-  as  my  successor  in  the  chaige  of 
these  walks,  here  seems  to  be  a  modest  damsel,  who  will 
be  m  )st  willing  to  wait  on  thee,  and  be  thy  bow-bearer 
— O  ily  for  her  mother's  sake,  let  there  pass  some  slight 
form  of  marriage  between  you — Ye  need  no  license  or 
priest  in  these  happy  days,  but  may  be  buckled  like 
beggars  in  a  ditch,  with  a  hedge  for  a  church  roof,  and 
a  tinker  for  a  priest.  I  crave  pardon  of  you  for  making 
such  an  officious  and  simple  reqnest — perhaps  you  area 
R  inter — or  one  of  the  family  of  Love,  or  hold  marriage 
rites  as  unnecessarv,  as  Knipperdoling,  or  Jack  of 
Leyden." 

"  For  mercy's  sake,  forbear  such  dreadful  jesting,  my 
father;  and  do  you,  Markham,  begone,  in  God's  name, 
and  leave  us  to  our  fate — Your  presence  makes  my  fa- 
ther rave." 

"  Jesting  !"  said  Sir  Henry,  "  T  was  never  more  se- 
rio'is — Raving  ! — 1  was  never  more  composed.  1  could 
never  brook  that  falseliood  should  approach  me — I  would 
no  more  bear  by  my  side  a  dishonoured  daughter  than  a 
dishonoured  sword  ;  and  this  unhappy  day  hath  shown 
that  both  can  f<iil." 

"  Sir  Henry,"  said  young  Everard,  "  load  not  your 
soul  with  a  heavy  crime,  which  be  assured  you  do,  in 
treating  your  daughter  thus  unjustly.  It  is  long  now 
since  you  denied  her  to  me,  when  we  were  poor  and  you 
v/ere  powerftd.  I  acquiesced  in  yoqr  prohibition  of  all 
suit  and  intercourse.  God  knoweth  what  1  suffered — 
but  I  acquiesced.  Neither  is  it  to  renew  my  suit  that  I 
now  come  hither,  and  have,  T  do  acknowledge,  sought 
speech  of  her — not  for  her  own  sake  only,  but  for  yours 
also.  Destruction  hovers  over  you,  ready  to  close  her 
pinions  to  stoop,  and  her  talons  to  clutch — Yes,  sir,  look 


contemptuous  as  you  will,  such  is  the  case  ;  and  it  is  to 
protect  bolli  you  and   her  that  J  am  here." 

*'  You  refuse  then  iDy  free  gift,"  said  Sir  Henry  Lee ; 
"  or  perhaps  you  think  it  loaded  with  loo  hard  condi- 
tions f" 

"  Shame,  shame  on  you,  Sir  Henry  !"  said  Everard, 
waxing  warm  in  his  turn  ;  "  have  your  political  preju- 
dices so  utterly  warped  every  feehng  of  a  father,  thai 
you  can  speak  with  bitter  mockery  and  scorn  of  what 
concerns  your  own  daughter's  honour  f — Hold  up  your 
head,  fair  Alice,  and  tell  your  father  he  has  forgolien 
nature  in  his  fantastic  spirit  of  loyalty. — Know,  Sir  Hen- 
ry, that  though  1  would  prefer  your  daughter's  hand  to 
every  blessing  which  Heaven  could  bestow  on  me,  I 
would  not  accept  it — my  conscience  would  not  permit 
me  to  do  so — when  1  knew  it  must  withdraw  her  from 
her  duty  to  you." 

"  Your  conscience  is  over  scrupulous,  young  man  ; 
carry  it  to  some  dissenting  rabbi,  and  he,  who  takes  all 
that  comes  to  net,  will  teach  thee  it  is  sinning  against 
our  mercies  to  refuse  any  good  thing  that  is  freely  offer- 
ed to  us." 

"  When  it  is  freely  offered,  and  kindly  offered — not 
when  the  offer  is  made  in  irony  and  insult. — Fare  thee 
well,  Alice — if  aught  could  make  me  desire  to  profit  by 
thy  father's  wild  wish  to  cast  thee  from  him  in  a  moment 
of  unworthy  suspicion,  it  would  be  that  while  indulging 
in  such  sentiments,  Sir  Henry  Lee  is  tyrannically  op- 
pressing the  creature,  who  of  all  others  is  most  dependent 
on  his  kindness — who  of  all  others  will  most  feel  his 
severity — and  whom,  of  all  others,  he  is  most  bound  to 
cherish  and  support." 

"Do  not  fear  forme, Mr.  Everard,"  exclaimed  Alice, 
aroused  from  her  timidity  by  a  dread  of  the  consequences 
not  unlikely  to  ensue,  where  civil  war  set  relations,  a^- 
well  as  fellow  citizens,  in  opposition  to  each  other. — 
**  Oh,  begone,  1  conjure  you  begone  ^  Nothing  stands 
betwixt  me  and  my  fatlier's  kindness,  but  these  unhappy 


64  WOODSTOCK. 

family  dlv'sions — but  your  ill  timed  presence  here — For 
heaven's  sake  leave  us  !" 

"  Sol),  n)istress  I"  answered  the  hot  old  cavalier  ; 
"you  play  lady  paramount  already  ;  and  who  but  you  ! 
— you  would  dictate  to  our  train,  1  warrant,  hke  Goneril 
and  Regan.  But  1  tell  thee,  no  man  shall  leave  my 
house — and,  humble  as  it  is,  this  is  now  my  house — while 
he  has  aught  to  say  to  me  that  is  to  be  spoken,  as  this 
young  man  now  speaks,  with  a  bent  brow  and  a  lohy  tone. 
— Speak  out,  sir,  and  say  your  worst  !" 

"  Fear  not  my  temper,  JMrs.  Alice,"  said  Everard, 
with  equal  firmness  and  placidity  of  manner  ;  "  and  you, 
Sir  Henry,  do  not  think  if  I  sj^eak  firndy,  I  niean  there- 
fore to  speak  in  anger,  or  officiously.  You  have  taxed 
me  with  much,  and,  were  I  guided  by  the  wild  spirit  of 
romantic  chivalry,  much  which,  even  from  so  near  a 
relative,  I  ought  not,  as  being  by  birth,  and  in  the  world's 
estimation,  a  gentleman,  to  pass  over  without  reply.  Is 
it  your  pleasure  to  give  me  patient  hearmg  ?" 

"if  you  stand  on  your  defence,''  answ^ered  the  stout 
old  Knight,  "  God  forbid  that  you  should  not  challenge 
a  patient  hearing — ay,  though  your  pleading  were  two 
pa]'ts  disloyalty  and  one  blasphemy — Only,  be  brief — this 
has  already  lasted  but  too  long." 

"  \  will.  Sir  Henry,"  replied  the  young  man  ;  "  yet  it 
is  hard  to  crowd  inio  a  few  sentences,  the  defence  of 
a  life  which,  though  short,  has  been  a  busy  one — too 
busy,  your  indignant  gesture  would  assert.  But  I  deny 
it  ;  1  have  drawn  my  sword  neither  hastily,  nor  without 
due  consideration,  for  a  people  whose  rights  have  been 
trampled  on,  and  whose  consciences  have  been  oppressed. 
— Fiown  not,  sir — such  is  not  your  view  of  the  contest, 
but  such  is  mine  :  For  my  religious  principles,  at  which 
you  have  scoffed,  believe  me,  that  though  they  depend 
not  on  set  forms,  they  are  no  less  sincere  than  your  own, 
and  thus  far  purer — excuse  the  word — that  they  are 
unmingled  with  the  blood-thirsty  dictates  of  a  barbarous 
age,  which  you  and  others  have  called  the  code  of  chiv- 
alrous honour.     Not  mv  own  natural  disposition,  but  the 


WOODSTOCK. 


65 


better  doctrine  which  my  creed  has  taught,  enables  me 
to  bear  your  harsh  revilings  without  ansvveiing  in  a  similar 
tone  of  wrath  and  reproach.  You  may  carry  insult  to 
extremity  against  me  at  your  pleasure — not  on  account 
of  our  relationship  alone,  but  because  1  am  bound  in 
charity  to  endure  it.  This,  Sir  Henry,  is  much  from 
one  of  our  house.  But,  with  forbearance  far  more  than 
this  requires,  1  can  refuse  at  }-our  hands  the  gift,  which, 
most  of  all  things  under  Heaven,  1  should  desire  to  obtain, 
because  duty  calls  upon  her  to  sustain  and  comfort  you, 
and  because  it  were  sin  to  permit  you,  in  your  blindness, 
to  spurn  your  comforter  from  your  side. — Farewell,  sir 
— not  in  anger  but  in  pity — We  may  meet  in  a  belter 
time,  when  your  heart  and  your  principles  shall  master 
the  unhappy  prejudices  by  which  they  are  now  over- 
clouded.—  Farewell — farewell,  Alice  !" 

The  last  woids  were  repealed  twice,  and  in  a  tone  of 
feeling  and  passionate  grief,  which  differed  utterly  from 
the  steady  and  almost  severe  tone  in  which  lie  had  ad- 
dressed Sir  Henry  Lee.  He  turned  and  left  the  hut  so  » 
soon  as  he  had  uttered  these  last  words  ;  and  as  if  asham- 
ed of  the  tenderness  which  had  mingled  with  his  accents, 
the  young  commonwealth's  man  turned  and  walked  stern- 
ly and  resolvedly  forth  into  the  moonlight,  which  now 
was  spreadins;  its  broad  light  and  autumnal  shadows  over 
the  woodland. 

So  soon  as  he  was  departed,  Alice,  who  had  been  dur- 
ing the  whole  scene  in  tlie  utmost  terror  ihal  her  father 
might  have  been  hurried,  by  his  natural  heat  of  temper, 
from  violence  of  language  into  violence  of  action,  sunk 
down  upon  a  settle  twisted  out  of  willow-boughs,  like 
most  of  Joceline's  few  moveables,  and  endeavoured  to 
fonceal  the  tears  which  accompanied  liie  tlianks  she 
rendered  in  broken  accents  to  Heaven,  thifl,  no'.wilh.^iand- 
ing  the  near  alliance  and  relationship  ol  the  parties,  some 
fatal  deed  had  not  closed  an  interview  so  perilous  and  so 
angry.  l*ln.ehe  Mayflower  blubbered  heartily  lo;  com- 
pany, thoni!;li  she  understood  but  Huie  of  what  had  pas* 

G*        VOL      I. 


66  WOODSTOCK. 

sed  ;  just,  indeed,  enough  to  enable  her  afterwards  to 
report  to  some  hah"-dozen  particular  friends,  that  her 
old  master,  Sir  Henry,  had  been  perilous  angry,  and 
almost  fought  with  young  Master  Everard,  because  he 
had  well  nigh  carried  away  her  young  mistress. — "  And 
what  could  he  have  done  better  r"  said  Phoebe,  "  seeing 
the  old  man  had  nothing  left  either  for  Mrs.  Alice  or 
himself ;  and  as  for  Mr.  Mark  Everard,  and  our  young 
lady,  oh,  they  had  spoken  such  loving  things  to  each 
other,  as  are  not  to  be  found  in  the  history  of  Argala.s 
and  Parthenia,  who,  as  the  story  book  tells,  were  the 
truest  pair  of  lovers  in  all  Arcadia,  and  Oxfordshire  to 
boot." 

Old  Goody  Jellycot  had  po))ped  her  scarlet  liood  into 
the  kitchen  more  than  once  while  the  scene  was  pro- 
ceeding ;  but,  as  the  worthy  dame  was  parcel  blind,  and 
more  tlian  parcel  deaf,  knowledge  was  excluded  by  two 
principal  entrances  ;  and  though  she  comprehended,  by 
a  sort  of  general  instiiict,  that  the  gentle-folks  were  at 
•  high  words,  yet  why  they  chose  Joceline's  hut  for  the 
scene  of  their  disi)ute,  was  as  great  a  mystery  as  the 
subject  of  the  quarrel. 

iJut  what  was  the  state  of  the  old  cavalier's  mood, 
thus  contradicted,  us  his  most  darling  principles  had 
been,  by  the  last  words  of  his  departed  nephew  ?  The 
truth  is,  that  he  was  less  thoroughly  moved  than  his 
daughter  expected  ;  and  in  all  probability  his  nephew's 
bol(I  defence  of  his  religious  and  ])olitica!  oj)inions  rather 
pacified  than  aggravated  his  displeasure.  Although  suf- 
ficiently impatient  of  contradiction,  still  evasion  and  sub- 
terfuge were  more  alien  to  the  blunt  old  Ranger's  nature 
than  inanly  vindication  and  direct  opposition  ;  and  he  was 
wont  to  say,  that  he  ever  loved  the  buck  best  who  stood 
boldest  at  bay.  He  graced  his  nephew's  departure, 
however,  with  a  quotation  from  Shakspeare,  whom,  as 
many  others  do,  lie  was  wont  to  quote  from  a  sort  of 
habit  and  respect  to  him,  as  a  favourite  of  his  unfortunate 
master,  without  having   either  much  real  taste  for  big 


WOODSTOCK- 


67 


works,  or  great  skill  in  applying  the  passages  which  he 
retained  on  his  memory. 

"  Mark,"  he  said,  "  mark  this,  Alice — the  devil  can 
quote  scripture  for  his  purpose.  Why,  this  young  fanatic 
cousin  of  thine,  witii  no  more  beard  than  1  have  seen  on 
a  clown  playing  Maid  Marion  on  May-day,  when  the  vil- 
lage barber  had  shaved  him  in  too  great  a  hurry,  shall 
match  any  bearded  Presbyterian  or  Independent  of  them 
all,  in  laying  down  his  doctrines  and  his  uses,  and  be- 
thumping  us  with  his  text  and  his  homilies.  1  would  wor- 
thy and  learned  Doctor  RocheclifTe  had  been  here,  with 
his  battery  ready-mounted  from  the  Vulgate,  and  the 
Septuagint,  and  what  not — he  would  have  battered  the 
Presbyterian  spirit  out  of  him  wiihawanion.  However, 
1  am  glad  the  young  man  is  no  sneaker  ;  for,  were  a  man 
of  the  devil's  opinion  in  religion,  and  of  Old  Noll's  in 
politics,  he  were  better  open  on  it  full  cry,  than  deceive 
you  by  hunting  counter,  or  running  a  false  scent.  Come 
— wipe  thine  eyes — the  fray  is  over,  and  not  hke  to  be 
stirred   again  soon,  1  trust." 

Encouraged  by  these  words,  Alice  rose,  ;md,  bewilder- 
ed as  she  was,  endeavoured  to  superintend  the  arrange- 
ments for  their  meal  and  their  repose  in  their  new  habi- 
tation. But  her  tears  fell  so  fast,  they  marred  her  coun- 
terfeited diligence  ;  and  it  was  well  lor  her  that  Phoebe, 
though  loo  ignorant  and  too  simple  to  comprehend  the 
extent  of  her  distress,  could  alibrd  her  material  assistance, 
in  lack  of  mere  sympathy. 

With  great  readiness  and  address,  the  damsel  set  about 
every  thing  that  was  requisite  for  preparing  the  supper 
and  the  beds  ;  now  screaming  into  Dame  Jellycot's  ear, 
now  whispering  into  her  mistress's,  and  arlfiiily  managing, 
as  if  she  was  merely  the  agent,  under  Alice's  orders. 
When  the  cold  nieat  was  set  forth.  Sir  Heni-y  Lee  kindly 
pressed  his  daughter  to  take  refreshment,  as  if  to  make 
up,  indirectly,  for  his  previous  harshness  towards  her  ; 
while  he  himself,  like  an  experienced  campaigner,  show- 
ed, that  neither  the  mortifications  nor  brawls  of  the  day, 
nor  the  thoughts  of  what  was  to  come  lo-morrow,  couid 


68 


WOODSTOCK. 


diminish  his  appetite  for  supper,  which  was  his  favourite 
meal.  He  eat  up  two-thirds  of  the  capon,  and,  devoting 
the  first  bumper  to  the  happy  restoration  of  Charles, 
second  of  the  name,  he  finished  a  quart  of  wine ;  for  he 
belonged  to  a  school  accustomed  to  feed  the  Hame  of 
their  loyalty  with  copious  brimmers.  He  even  sang  a 
verse  of  '  Tiie  King  shall  enjoy  his  own  again,'  in  which 
Phcfibe,  half  sobbing,  ,and  Dame  Jellycot,  screaming 
against  time  and  tune,  were  contented  to  lend  their  aid, 
to  cover  Mistress  Alice's  silence. 

At  length  the  jovial  Knight  betook  himseff  to  his  rest, 
on  the  keeper's  straw  pallet,  in  a  recess  adjoining  to  the 
kitchen,  and,  unaiTected  by  his  change  of  dwelling,  slept 
fast  and  deep.  Alice  had  less  quiet  rest  in  old  Goody 
Jellycot's  wicker  couch,  in  the  inner  apartment  ;  while 
the  dame  and  Phcebe  slept  on  a  mattress,  stuffed  With 
dry  leaves,  in  the  same  chamber,  soundly  as  those  whose 
daily  toil  gains  tiieir  daily  bread,  and  whom  morning 
calls  up  only  to  renew  the  toils  of  yesterday. 


CHAPTER  V. 

My  tong^ue  pafls  slowly  under  this  new  lansr»a»e. 
And  starts  and  s'-uinlilps  at  these  uncouth  phrases. 
They  may  be  great  ii!  worth  and  \^ei^hi,  hut  liang 
Ifjioii  the  native  g'ihiiess  of  my  lanjrnas^e 
Like  Saul's  plate-armour  on  the  shepherd  boy, 

Lncuiuberln";-  and  not  armine;  him. 

J.  B. 

As  Markham  Evernrd  pursued  his  way  townrds  the 
Lodge,  throu2;h  one  of  the  long  sweeping';  glades  which 
traversed  the  firest,  varying  in  bi'eadtii,  till  the  trees  were 
now  so  close  that  the  boughs  made  darkness  over  their 
heads,  then  receding  farther  to  let  in  glimpses  of  the 
moon,  and  anon  opening  yet  wider  into  little  meadows, 


WOODSTOCK.  69 

or  savannahs,  on  which  the  moonheams  lay  in  silvery 
silence  ;  as  lie  thus  pioceederl  on  his  lonely  course,  the 
various  effects  produced  by  that  delicious  light  on  the 
oaks,  whose  dark  leaves,  gnarled  branches,  and  massive 
trunks  it  gilded,  more  or  less  partially,  might  have  drawn 
the  attention  of  a  poet  or  a  painter. 

But  if  Everard  thought  of  anything  saving  the  painful 
scene  in  which  he  had  just  played  his  part,  ai.d  ot  which 
the  result  seemed  th.e  destruction  of  all  his  hopes,  it  was 
of  the  necessary  guard  to  he  observed  in  his  night-walk. 
The  times  were  dangerous  and  unseltled  ;  the  roads  full 
of  disbanded  soldiers,  and  especially  of  royalists,  who 
made  their  political  opinions  a  pretext  for  disturbing  the 
country  with  marauding  parties  and  robberies.  Ueer- 
stealers  also,  who  are  ever  a  desperate  banditti,  bad  of 
late  infested  Woodstock  Chase.  In  short,  the  dangers 
of  the  place  and  period  were  such,  that  Maikliam  Everard 
wore  his  loaded  pistols  at  his  belt,  and  cairitd  his  drawn 
sword  under  his  arm,  that  he  might  be  prepared  for  what- 
ever peril  should  cross  his  path. 

He  heard  the  bells  of  Woodstock  Church  ring  curfew, 
just  as  he  was  crossing  one  of  the  little  meadows  we  have 
descrii)ed,  and  they  ceased  as  he  entered  an  ovei shadow- 
ed and  twilight  part  of  the  path  beyond.  It  was  there 
that  he  heard  someone  whistling  ;  and,  as  the  sound  be- 
came clearer,  it  was  plain  the  person  was  advancing  to- 
w^ards  him.  This  could  hardly  be  a  friend  ;  for  the 
party  to  which  he  belonged  rejected,  generally  speaking, 
all  music,  unless  psalmody.  '  If  a  man  is  merry,  let  him 
sing  psalms,'  was  a  text  which  they  were  pleased  to  in- 
terpret as  literally  as  they  did  some  others  ;  yet  it  was  too 
continued  a  sound  to  be  a  signal  amongst  night-walkers, 
and  loo  light  and  cheerful  to  argue  any  purpose  of  con- 
cealment on  the  part  of  the  traveller,  who  presently  ex- 
changed his  whistling  for  singing,  and  trolled  forth  the 
following  stanza  to  a  jolly  tune,  with  whicli  the  old 
cavaliers  were  wont  to  wake  the  night-owl  : 


70  WOODSTOCK. 

Hey  for  cavaliers  !  Ho  for  cavaliers  ! 
Pray  for  cavaliers  ! 
Rub  a  dub— rub  a  dub  ! 
Have  at  old  Beelzebub — 
Oliver  smokes  for  fear. 

"  1  should  know  that  voice,"  said  Everard,  uncocking 
the  pistol  which  he  had  drawn  from  his  belt,  but  contin- 
uing to  hold  it  in  his  hand.  Then  came  another  frag- 
ment : 

Hash  them — slash  them — 
All  lo  pieces  dash  them. 

**  So  ho  !"  cried  Markham,  "  who  goes  there,  and  for 
whom  ?" 

"  For  Church  and  King,"  answered  a  voice,  which 
presently  added,  "  No,  d — n  me — 1  mean  against 
Church  and  King,  and  for  the  people  that  are  uppermost 
— 1  forget  which  they  are." 

"  Roger  Wild  rake,  as  I  guess  f"  said  Everard. 

**  The  same — Gentleman  of  Squattlesea-mere,  in  the 
moist  county  of  Lincoln." 

"  Wildrake!"  said  Markham — "  Wildgooseyou  should 
be  called.  You  have  been  moistening  your  own  throat 
to  some  purpose,  and  using  it  to  gabble  tunes  very  suiting 
to  the  times,  to  be  sure  !" 

"  Faith,  the  tune's  a  pretty  tune  enough,  Mark,  only 
out  of  fiishion  a  little — the  more's  the  pity." 

*•  What  could  I  expect,"  said  Everard,  "  but  to  meet 
some  ranting,  drunken  cavalier,  as  desperate  and  dan- 
gerous as  night  and  sack  usually  make  them  ?  What  if 
I  had   rewarded  your  melody  by  a  ball  in  the  gullet .''" 

"  Why,  there  would  have  been  a  piper  paid — that's 
all,"  said  Wildrake. — "  But  wherefore  come  you  this 
way  now  ? — I  was  about  to  seek  you  at  the  hut." 

"  I  have  been  obliged  to  leave  it — I  will  tell  you  the 
cause  hereafter,"   replied  Markham. 

"  What  !  the  old  play-hunting  cavalier  was  cross,  or 
Chloe  was  unkind  .^" 

"  Jest  not,  Wildrake — it  is  all  over  with  me,"  said 
Everard. 


WOODSTOCK.  71 

♦  The  devil  it  is,"  exclaimed  Wildrake,  "  and  you 
take  it  thus  quietly  ! — Zounds  !  let  us  back  together — I'll 
plead  your  cause  for  you — 1  know  how  to  tickle  up  an 
old  Knight  and  a  pretty  maiden — Let  me  alone  for  put- 
ting you  rectus  in  curia,  you  canting  rogue. — D — n  me, 
Sir  Henry  Lee,  says  1,  your  nephew  is  a  piece  ol'  a  Puri- 
tan— it  won't  deny — but  I'll  upliold  him  a  genileman  and 
a  pretty  fellow  for  all  that. — Madam,  says  1,  you  may 
think  your  cousin  looks  like  a  psalm-singing  weaver,  in 
that  hare  felt,  and  with  that  rascally  brown  cloak  ;  that 
band,  which  looks  like  a  baby's  clout,  and  those  loose 
boots,  which  have  a  whole  calf-skin  in  each  of  iljem, — 
but  let  him  wear  on  the  one  side  of  his  head  a  castor, 
with  a  plume  befitting  his  quality  ;  give  him  a  good  Tol- 
edo by  his  side,  with  a  broidered  belt  and  an  inlaid  hilt, 
instead  of  the  ton  of  iron  contained  in  that  basket-hilted, 
black  Andrew  Ferrara  ;  put  a  few  smart  words  in  his 
mouth — and,  blood  and  wounds!   madam,  says  1 " 

"  Prithee,  truce  with  this  nonsense,  Wildrake,"  said 
Everard,  "  and  tell  me  if  you  are  sober  enough  to  hear 
a  few  words  of  sober  reason  f" 

"  Pshaw  !  man,  1  did  but  crack  a  brace  of  quarts  with 
yonder  puritanic,  round-headed  soldiers,  up  yonder  at 
the  town  ;  and  rat  me  but  I  passed  myself  for  the  best 
man  of  the  party  ;  twanged  my  nose,  and  turned  up  my 
eyes,  as  I  took  my  can — Pah  !  the  very  wine  tasted  of 
hypocrisy.  I  think  the  rogue  corporal  smoked  something 
at  last — as  for  the  common  fellows,  never  stir,  but  they 
asked  me  to  say  grace  over  another  quart." 

"  This  is  just  what  f  wished  to  speak  with  you  about, 
Wildrake,"  said  Markham — "  You  hold  me,  1  am  sure, 
for  your  friend  ,^" 

"  True  as  steel. — Chums  at  college  and  at  Lincoln's- 
Inn — we  iiave  been  Nisus  and  Euryalus,  Theseus  and 
Periihous,  Orestes  and  Pylades  ;  and,  to  sum  up  the 
vpho'e  with  a  puritanic  touch,  David  and  Jonathan,  all  in 
one  breath.  Not  even  politics,  the  wedge  ihrt  rends 
families  and  friendships  asunder,  as  iron  rives  oa':,  have 
been  able  to  split  us." 


72  WOODSTOCK. 

"  True,"  answered  Markhain  ;  "  and  when  you  fol- 
lowed ihe  King  to  Nottingham,  and  I  enrolled  under 
Essex,  we  swore,  at  our  parting,  that  wliichever  side  was 
victorious,  lie  of  us  who  adhered  to  it,  should  protect  his 
less  fortunate  comrade." 

"  Surely,  man,  surely  ;  and  have  you  not  protected 
me  accordingly  ?  Did  you  not  save  me  from  hanging  ? 
and  am  I  not  indehted  to  you  for  the  bread  1  eatf" 

"  I  have  but  done  that  which  had  the  times  been  oth- 
erwise, you,  my  dear  VVildrake,  would,  1  am  sure,  have 
done  for  me.  But,  as  I  said,  tiiat  is  just  what  1  wished 
to  speak  to  you  about.  Why  render  the  task  of  protect- 
ing you  more  difficult  than  it  must  necessarily  be  at  any 
rate  ?  Wl)y  thrust  thyself  into  the  company  of  soldiers, 
or  such-like,  where  thou  art  sure  to  be  warmed  into  be- 
traying thyself.''  VV^hy  come  hollowing  and  whooping  out 
cavalier  ditties,  like  a  drunken  trooper  of  Pjince  Rupert, 
or  one  of  Wihnot's  swaggering  body-guards  .f*" 

"  B.^cause  I  may  have  been  both  one  and  t'other  in 
my  day,  for  aught  that  you  know,"  replied  Wildrake. 
"  But,  oddsfish  !  is  it  necessary  1  should  always  be  re- 
minding you,  that  our  obligation  of  mutual  protection, 
our  league  of  offensive  and  defensive,  as  I  may  call  it, 
was  to  be  carried  into  effect  witliout  reference  to  the 
politics  or  religion  of  the  party  protected,  or  the  least 
obligation  on  hin>  to  conform  to  those  of  his  friend  .''" 

"  True,"  said  Everard  ;  "  but  with  this  most  necessa- 
ry qualification,  that  the  party  should  submit  to  such  out- 
ward conformity  to  the  times  as  should  make  it  more 
easy  and  safe  for  his  friend  to  he  of  service  to  him.  Now, 
you  are  perpetually  breaking  forth,  to  the  hazard  of  your 
own  safety  and  my   credit." 

*'  I  tell  you,  Mark,  and  1  would  tell  your  namesake  the 
apostle,  that  you  are  hard  on  me.  You  have  practised 
sojariety  and  hypocrisy  from  your  hanging  sleeves  till 
your  Geneva  cassock — from  the  cradle  to  this  day, — and 
it  is  a  thing  of  nature  to  you  ;  and  you  are  surprised  that 
a  rouL'!),.  rattling,  honest  fellow,  accustomed  to  speak 
truth  all  his  life,  and  especially  v^hen  he  found  it  at  the 


>VOODSTOCK« 


73 


bottom  of  a  flask,  cannot  be  so  perfect  a  prig  as  thyself. 
— Zooks  !  there  is  no  eqnahiy  betwixt  us — A  trained 
diver  might  as  well,  because  he  can  retain  his  lireath  lor 
ten  minutes  without  inconvenience,  upbraid  a  poor  devil 
for  being  like  to  burst  in  twenty  seconds — And,  alter  all, 
considering  the  guise  is  so  new  to  me,  1  think  1  bear  my- 
self indifftMenlly  well — try  me." 

"Are  there  any  more  news  from  Worcester  fight  ?" 
asked  Everard,  in  a  tone  so  serious  that  it  imposed  on 
his  companion,  who  replied  in  his  genuine  ( harac  ter — 

"  Worse  ! — d — n  me,  worse  an  hundred  tinies  tlum  re- 
ported— totally  broken.  Noll  hath  certainly  sold  himself 
to  the  devil,  and  his  lease  will  have  an  end  one  diiy — 
that  is  all  our  present  comfort." 

"  VV^hat  !  and  would  this  be  your  answer  to  the  first 
red-cojit  who  asked  the  question?"  said  Evernrd.  "  Re- 
thinks you  would  find  a  speedy  passpert  to  the  next  corps 
de  garde." 

*'  Nay,  nay,"  answered  Wildrake,  "  I  thought  you 
asked  me  in  your  own  |)erson. — Lack-a-day  !  a  gieat 
mercy — a  glorifying  mercy — a  crowning  mercy — a 
vouchsafing — an  uplifting — I  profess  the  malignants  are 
scattered  from  Dan  to  Beersheba — smitten,  hip  and 
tliigh,  even  until  the  going  down  of  the  sun  !" 

"  Hear  you  aui:;ht  of  ('olonel  Thornhaugh's  wounds  ?" 

"  He  is  dead,"  answered  Wildrake,  "that's  one  com- 
fort— the  round-headed  rascal  ! — Nay,  hold  !  it  was  but 
a  trip  of  the  tongue — 1  meant,' the  sweet  godly  }outli." 

"  Aiul  hear  you  aught  of  the  young  man,  King  of 
Scotland,  as  they  call  him  ?"  said  Everard. 

"  Nothing,  but  lh;it  he  is  hunted  like  a  partridge  on  the 
mountains.  May  God  deliver  him,  and  confound  his 
enemies  I — Zoons,  Mark  Everard,  I  can  fool  it  no  longer. 
Do  you  not  remember,  that  at  the  Lincoln's-Inn  gambols 
— thou2;h  you  did  not  mingle  much  in  them  I  think — I 
used  always  to  play  as  well  as  any  of  them,  when  it  came 
to  the  action,  but  they  could  never  get  me  to  rehearse 
conformably.       It's  the  same  at  this  day.     1  hear  your 

7       VOL.    I. 


74 


WOODSTOCK. 


voice,  and  I  answer  to  it  in  the  true  tone  of  my  heart  j 
but  when  1  am  in  the  company  of  your  snuffling  friends, 
you  have  seen  me  act  my  part  indifferent  well." 

"But  iuflifterent,  indeed,"  replied  Kverard  ;  "how- 
ever, there  is  little  call  on  you  to  do  aught,  save  to  be 
modest  and  silent.  Speak  little,  and  lay  aside,  if  you 
can,  your  big  oaths  and  swaggering  looks — set  your  bat 
even  on  your  brows." 

"  Ay,  that  is  the  ciu'se  !  1  havo  been  always  noted 
for  the  jaunty  manner  in  which  I  wear  my  castor — Hard 
when  a  man's  merits  become  his  enemies." 

"  You  must  remember  you  are  my  clerk." 

"  Secretary,"  answered  VVildrake;  "  let  it  be  secreta- 
ry, if  you  love  me." 

"  It  must  be  clerk,  and  nothing  else — plain  clerk — 
and  remember  to  be  civil  and  obedient,"  replied  Everard. 

"  But  you  should  not  lay  on  your  commands  with  so 
much  ostentatious  superiority,  IMaster  Markham  Everard. 
Remember  I  am  your  senior  of  three  years  standing. 
Confound  me,  if  I  know  how   to  take  it  !" 

"  Was  ever  such  a  fantastic  wronghead  ? — For  my 
sake,  if  not  for  thine  own,  bend  thy  freakish  folly  to  listen 
to  reason.  Think  that  I  have  incurred  both  risk  and 
shame  on  thy  account." 

"  Nay,  thou  art  a  ri2;ht  good  fellow,  Mark,"  replied 
the  cavalier,  "  and  for  thy  sake  I  will  do  much — but  re- 
member to  cough,  and  cry  hem  !  when  thou  seest  me  like 
to  break  bounds — And  now  tell  me  whither  we  are  bound 
for  the   niglit  ?" 

"  To  Woodstock  Lodge,  to  look  after  my  uncle's  pro- 
perty," answered  iMarkham  Everard  :  "  I  am  informed 
that  soldiers  have  taken  possession — Yet  how  could  that 
be,  if  thou  foundest  the  party   drinking  in  Woodstock?" 

"  There  was  a  kind  of  commissary  or  steward,  or 
some  such  rogue,  had  gone  down  to  the  Lodge,"  replied 
Wildrake  ;   "  I  had  a  peep  at  him." 

"  fndeed  ?"  replied  Everard. 

"  Ay,  verily,  to  speak  your  own  language.  AVliy,  as  I 
passed  through  the  park  in  quest  of  you,  scarce  half  an 


AV  001)  STOCK.  75 

hour  since,  I  saw  a  light  in  the  Lodge — Step  this  way,  you 
will  see  it  yourself." 

'*  In  the  noith  west  angle  ? — It  is  from  a  window  in 
what  they  call  Victor  Lee's  apartment." 

"  Well,"  resumed  Wildiake,  "  I  had  been  long  one  of 
Lundsford's  lads,  and  well  used  to  patrolling  duty — So, 
rat  me,  says  I,  if  J  leave  a  light  in  my  rear,  without 
knowing  what  it  means.  Besides,  ^Jark,  thou  hadstsaid 
so  much  to  me  of  thy  pretty  cousin,  1  thought  I  might 
as  well  hdve  a  peep,  if  I  could." 

"  Thoughtless,  thoughtless,  incorrigible  young  man — 
to  what  dangers  do  you  expose  yourself  and  your  friends, 
in  mere  wantonness  ! — But  go  on  I" 

"  By  this  fair  moonshirie,  1  believe  thou  art  jealous, 
Mark  Everard  I"  replied  his  gay  companion  ;  "  there  is 
no  occasion  ;  for,  in  any  case,  I,  who  was  to  see  the  lady, 
was  steeled  by  honour  against  the  chai  ms  of  my  friend's 
Chloe — Then  the  lady  was  not  to  see  me,  so  could  make 
no  comparisons  to  thy  disadvantage,  thou  knowest — 
Lastly,  as  it  fell  out,  neither  of  us  saw  the  other  at  all." 

"  Of  that  I  am  well  aware.  JMrs.  Alice  left  the  Lodge 
long  before  sunset,  and  never  returned.  What  didst 
thou  see,  to  introduce  with  such  preface  ?" 

"  Nay,  no  great  matter,"  replied  Wildrake  ;  "  only 
getting  upon  a  sort  of  buitiess,  (furl  can  climb  like  any 
cat  that  ever  mewed  in  any  gutter,)  and  holding  on  by 
the  vines  and  creepers  which  grew  around,  I  obtained  a 
station  where  I  could  see  into  the  inside  of  that  same 
parlour  thou  spokest  of  just  now." 

"  And  what  saw'st  thou  there  ?"  once  more  demanded 
Everard. 

"  Nay,  no  great  matter,  as  I  said  before,"  replied  the 
cavalier  ;  "  for  in  these  times  it  is  no  new  thing  to  see 
churls  carousing  in  royal  or  noble  chambers.  I  saw  two 
rascallions  engaged  in  emptying  a  solemn  stoup  of  strong 
waters,  and  despatching  a  huge  venison  pasty,  which,  for 
their  convenience,  they  had  placed  on  a  lady's  working 
table — One  of  them  was  trying  an  air  on  a  lute." 


76  WOODSTOCK. 

"  The  profane  villains  !"  exclaimed  Everard,  "  it  was 
Alice's." 

"  Well  said,  comrade — I  am  glad  your  phlegm  can  be 
moved.  I  did  but  throw  iu  these  incidents  ol'  the  lute 
and  the  table  to  try  if  it  was  possible  to  get  a  spark  of 
human  spirit  out  of  you,  besanctified  as  you  are." 

"  What  like  were  the  men  f^^  said  young  Everard. 

"  The  one  a  slouch-hatted,  long-cloake<l,  sour-faced 
fanatic,  like  the  rest  of  you,  whom  1  took  to  be  the  stew- 
ard or  commissary  I  heard  spoken  of  in  the  town  ;  the 
other  was  a  short  sturdy  fellow,  with  a  wood-knife  at  his 
girdle,  and  a  long  quarter-staff  lying  beside  him — a  black- 
haired  knave,  with  white  teeth  ajid  a  ujerry  countenance 
— one  of  the  under-rangers  or  bow-bearers  of  these 
walks,  I  fancy." 

"  Ti)ey  must  have  been  Desborough's  favourite,  trusty 
Tomkins,"  said  Everard,  *'  and  Joceline  Jolifte,  the 
keeper.  Tomkins  is  Desborough's  right  hand — an  In- 
dependent, and  hath  pourings  forth,  as  he  calls  them. 
Soaie  think  that  his  gifts  have  the  better  of  his  grace. 
1  have  heard  of  his  abusing  opportunities." 

"They  were  improving  them  when  I  saw  them,"  re- 
plied Wildrake,  "  and  made  the  bottle  smoke  lor  it — 
when,  as  the  devil  would  have  it,  a  stone,  which  had  been 
dislodged  from  the  crumbling  buttress,  gave  way  under 
my  weight.  A  clumsy  fellow  like  thee  would  have  been 
so  long  tliinkin2;  what  was  to  be  done,  that  he  must  needs 
have  followed  it  before  he  could  make  up  his  mind  ;  but 
I,  Mark,  1  hopped  like  a  squirrel  to  an  ivy  twig,  and 
stood  fast — was  well  nigh  shot  throua;!),  for  the  noise 
alarmed  them  both.  They  looked  to  the  oriel,  and  saw 
me  on  the  outside  ;  the  fanatic  fellow  took  out  a  pistol 
— as  they  have  always  such  texts  in  readiness,  bunging 
beside  the  little  clasped  Bible,  thou  know'sl — the  keeper 
seized  his  hunting-pole — I  treated  them  boih  to  a  roar 
and  a  grin — thou  must  know  I  can  grimace  like  a  baboon 
— I  learned  the  trick  from  a  French  player,  who  could 
twist  his  jaws  into  a  piir  of  n-it-crackers — and  there- 
withal I  dropped  myself  sweetly  on  the  jsrass,  and  ran  off 


WOODSTOCK.  77 

so  trippingly,  keeping  the  Hark  side  of  the  wall  as  lotig 
as  1  could,  that  1  am  well  nigh  persuaded  they  thought 
I  was  their  kinsman,  the  devil,  come  among  tiiern  uncall- 
ed.    They  were  ahominably  startled." 

"Thou  art  most  fearfully  rash,  VVildrake,"  said  his 
companion  ;  "  we  are  now  bound  for  the  house — what 
if  they  should  remember  thee  .^" 

"  VVhy,  it  is  no  treason,  is  it  f  No  one  has  paid  for 
peeping  since  Tom  of  Coventry's  days  ;  and  if  he  came 
in  for  a  reckoning,  belike  it  was  for  a  better  treat  than 
mine.  But  trust  me,  they  will  no  more  know  me,  than  a 
man  who  had  only  seen  your  friend  Noll  at  a  conventicle 
of  saints,  would  know  the  same  Oliver  on  horseback, 
and  charging  with  his  lobster-tailed  squadron  ;  or  the 
same  Noll  cracking  a  jest  and  a  bottle  with  wicked  Wal- 
ler the  poet." 

*'  Hush  !  not  a  word  of  Oliver,  as  thou  dost  value  thy- 
self and  me.  It  is  ill  jesting  with  the  rock  you  may  split 
on. — But  here  is  the  gate — we  will  disturb  these  honest 
gentlenien's  recreations." 

As  he  spoke  he  applied  the  large  and  ponderous 
knocker  to  the  hall-door. 

"  Rat-tat  tat-too  !"  said  Wildrake,  "  there  is  a  fine 
alarm  to  you  cuckolds  and  roundheads."  He  then  half- 
mimicked,  half-sung  the  march  so  called  : — 

'  Cuckolfis,  come  dig.  curkolf's,  come  dig  ; 
Hound  about  cuckolds,  come  dance  to  my  jig- !" 

"  By  Heaven  !  this  passes  Midsummer  frenzy,"  said 
Everard,  itirning  angrily  to  him. 

"  Not  a  bit,  not  a  bit,"  replied  VVildrake  ;  *'  it  Is  but 
Q.  slight  expectoration,  just  like  what   one  makes  before 
beginning  a  long  speech.     1  will  be  grnve  for  an   hour\ 
together,  now  1  have  got   that  point  of  war  out  of  my 
head." 

As  he  spoke,  steps  were  heard  in  the  hall,  and  the 
wicket  of  the  great  door  was  partly  opened,  but  secured 
with  a  chain  in  case  of  accidents.     The  visage  of  Tom- 

7*       VOL.    I. 


78 


WOOa  STOCK. 


kins,  and  that  of  Joceline  beneath  it,  appeared  at  the 
chink,  illuminated  by  the  lamp  which  the  latter  held  in 
his  hand,  and  Tomkins  demanded  the  meaning  of  this 
dlarm. 

"  I  demand  instant  admittance  !"  said  Everard.  "  Jo- 
iiffe,  you  know  me  well  f"" 

"  I  do,  sir,'"  replied  Joceline,  "  and  could  admit  you 
with  all  my  heart ;  but,  alas  !  sir,  you  see  I  am  not  key- 
keeper — Here  is  the  gentleman  whose  warrant  1  mu.t 
walk  by — The  Lord  help  me,  seeing  times  are  such  as 
They  be  !" 

*'  And  when  that  gentleman,  who  I  think  may  be  Mas- 
ter Desborougli's  valet " 

"  His  honour's  unworthy  secretary,  an  it  please  you,'* 
interposed  Tomkins  ;  while  Wildrake  whispered  in  Eve- 
rard's  ear,  "  1  will  be  no  longer  secretary,  Mark,  thou 
wert  quite  right — the  clerk  must  be  the  more  gentleman- 
ly calling." 

"  And  if  you  are  Master  Desborough's  secretary,  I 
presume  you  know  me  and  my  condition  well  enough," 
said  Everard,  addressing  the  Independent,  **  not  to  hesi- 
tate to  admit  me  and  my  attendant  to  a  night's  quarters 
in  the  Lodge  ?" 

"  Surely  not,  surely  not,"  said  the  Independent — 
'*  that  is,  if  your  worship  thinks  you  would  be  better  ac- 
commodated here  than  up  at  the  house  of  entertainment 
in  the  town,  which  men  unprofitably  call  Saint  George's 
Inn.  There  is  but  confined  accommodation  here,  your 
honour — and  we  have  been  frayed  out  of  our  lives  al- 
ready by  the  visitation  of  Satan — albeit  his  fiery  dart  is 
now  quenched." 

"  This  may  be  all  well  in  its  place,  Sir  Secretary,"  said 
Everard  ;  "  and  you  may  find  a  corner  for  it  when  you 
are  next  tempted  to  play  the  preacher.  But  1  will  take 
it  for  no  apology  for  keeping  me  here  in  the  cold  harvest 
wind  ;  and  if  not  presently  received,  and  suitably  too,  I 
will  report  you  to  your  master  for  insolence  in  your 
office." 


WOODSTOCK.  "79 

The  secretary  of  Desboroiigh  did  not  dare  offer  far- 
ther o|»j)osition  ;  idr  it  was  well  known  that  DesLorcugh 
himself  only  held  his  consequence  as  a  kinsman  of  Crom- 
well, and  the  Lord  General,  who  was  well  nigh  paramount 
already,  was  known  to  be  strongly  favourable  both  to  the 
elder  and  younger  Everard.  It  is  true,  they  were  Pres- 
byterians and  he  an  Independent  ;  and  that,  though 
sharing  those  feelings  of  correct  morality  and  more  de- 
voted religiotjs  feeling,  by  which,  with  few  exceptions, 
the  Parliamentarian  party  were  distinguished,  the  Ever- 
ards  were  not  disposed  to  carry  these  attributes  to  the 
extreme  of  enthusiasm,  practised  by  so  many  others  at 
the  time.  Yet  it  was  well  known  that  whatever  might  be 
Cromwell's  own  religious  creed,  he  was  not  uniformly 
botmded  by  it  in  the  choice  of  his  favourites,  but  extend- 
ed his  countenance  to  those  who  could  serve  him,  even  al- 
though, according  to  the  phrase  of  the  time,  they  came 
out  of  the  darkness  of  Egypt.  The  character  of  the 
elder  Everard  stood  very  high  for  wisdom  and  sagacity  ; 
besides,  being  of  a  good  family  and  competent  iortune, 
his  adherence  would  lend  a  dignity  to  any  side  he  might 
espouse.  Then  his  son  had  been  a  distinguished  and 
successful  soldier,  remarkable  for  the  discipline  he  main- 
tained among  his  men,  the  bravery,  which  he  showed  in 
the  time  of  action,  and  the  humanity  with  which  he  was 
always  ready  to  qualify  the  consequences  of  victory. 
Such  men  were  not  to  be  neglected,  when  many  signs 
combined  to  show  that  the  parties  in  the  state,  v\ ho  had 
successfully  accomplished  the  deposition  and  death  of 
the  King,  were  speedily  to  quarrel  among  themselves 
about  the  division  of  the  spoils.  The  two  Everards  were 
therefore  much  courted  by  Cromwell,  and  their  influence 
with  him  supposed  to  be  so  great,  that  trusty  Mr.  Secreta- 
ry Tomkins  cared  not  to  expose  himself  to  risk,  by  con- 
tending with  Colonel  Everard  for  such  a  trifle  as  a  night's 
lodging. 

Joceline  was  active  on  his  side — more  lights  were  ob- 
taired — more  wood  thrown  on  the  fire — and  the  two 
newly-arrived  strangers  were  introduced  into  Victor  Lee*B 


80  WOODSTOCK. 

parlour,  as  it  was  called,  from  the  picture  over  the  chim- 
ney-piece, which  we  have  already  described.  It  was 
several  minutes  ere  Colonel  Everard  could  recover  his 
general  stoicism  of  deportment,  so  strongly  he  was  im- 
pressed by  finding  himself  in  the  apartment,  under  whose 
roof  he  had  passed  so  many  of  the  happiest  hours  of  his 
life.  There  was  the  cabinet,  which  he  had  seen  opened 
with  such  feelings  of  delight  vyheu  Sir  Henry  Lee  deign- 
ed to  give  him  instructions  in  fishing,  and  to  exhibit 
hooks  and  lines,  together  with  all  tiie  materials  for  mak- 
ing the  artificial  fly,  then  little  known.  There  hung  the 
ancient  family  picture,  which,  from  some  odd  mysterious 
expressions  of  his  uncle,  relating  to  it,  had  become  to 
his  boyhood,  nay,  his  early  youth,  a  subject  of  curiosity 
and  of  fear.  He  remembered  how,  when  left  alone  in 
the  apartment,  the  searching  eye  of  the  old  warrior  seem- 
ed always  bent  upon  his,  in  whatever  part  of  the  room  he 
placed  himself,  and  how  his  childisli  imagination  was  per- 
turbed at  a  phenomenon,  for  which  he  could  not  account. 

With  these  came  a  thousand  more  dear  and  warmer 
recollections  of  his  early  attachment  to  his  pretty  cousin 
Alice,  when  he  aided  at  her  lessons,  brought  water  for 
her  flowers,  or  accompanied  her  while  she  sung  ;  and 
he  remembered  that  while  her  fatlier  looked  at  them  with 
a  good-humoured  and  careless  smile,  he  had  once  heard 
him  mutter,  '  And  if  it  should  turn  out  so — why  it  might 
be  best  for  both,'  and  the  theories  of  happiness  he  had 
reared  on  these  words.  All  these  visions  had  been  dis- 
peiled  by  the  truiupet  of  war,  which  called  Sir  Henry 
Lee  and  himself  to  opposite  sides  ;  and  the  transactions 
of  this  very  day  had  shown,  that  even  Everard's  success 
as  a  soldier  and  a  statesman  seemed  absolutely  to  prohibit 
the  chance  of  their  bein2^  revived. 

He  was  waked  out  of  this  unpleasini^  reverie  by  the 
approach  of  Joceline,  who,  being  possibly  a  seasoned  to- 
per, had  made  the  additional  arrangements  with  more 
expedition  and  accuracy  than  could  have  been  expected 
from  a  person  engaged  as  he  had  been  since  night-fall. 


WOODSTOCK.  81 

He  now  wished  to  know  the  Colonel's  directions  for 
the  night. 

"  Would  he  eat  anything?" 

"  x\o." 

"  Did  his  honor  choose  to  accept  Sir  Henry  Lee's  bed, 
which  was  ready  prepared  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  That  of  Mistress  Alice  Lee  should  be  prepared  for 
the  Secretary." 

"  On  pain  of  thine  ears — No,"  replied  Everard. 

'*  Where  then  was  the  worthy  Secretary  lo  be  quar- 
tered .^" 

*'  Jn  the  dog-kennel,  if  you  list,"  replied  Colonel 
Everard  ;  "  but,"  added  he,  stepping  to  the  sleeping- 
apartment  of  Alice,  which  opened  Irorn  the  parlour, 
locking  it,  and  taking  out  the  key,  "  no  one  si^all  pro- 
fane this  chamber." 

*'  Had  his  honour  any  other  commands  for  the  night  .^" 

"  None,  save  to  clear  the  apartment  of  yonder  man. — 
My  clerk  will  remain  with  me — I  have  orders  which  must 
be  written  out. — Yet  stay — Thou  gavest  my  letter  this 
morning  to  Mistress  Alice  .^" 

"  1  did." 

"Tell  me,  good  Joceline,  what  she  said  when  she  re- 
ceived it  ?" 

"  She  seemed  nuich  concerned,  sir  ;  and  indeed  I  think 
that  she  wept  a  little — but  indeed  she  seemed  very  much 
distressed." 

"  And  what  message  did  she  send  to  me  ?" 

*'  None,  may  it  please  your  honour — She  began  to  say, 
*Tell  my  cousin  Everard  that  1  will  communicate  n.y  un- 
cle's kind  purpose  to  my  father,  if  1  can  get  fitting  op- 
portunity— but  that  I  greatly  fear' — and  there  checked 
herself,  as  it  were,  and  said,  '  I  will  write  to  my  cousin  ; 
and  as  it  may  be  late  ere  1  have  an  opportunity  of  speak- 
ing with  my  father,  do  thou  come  lor  my  answer  after 
service.' — So  I  went  to  church  myself,  to  while  away 
the  Uiue  ;  but  when  I  returned  to  the  chase,  1  found  this 
man  had  summoned  my  master  to  surrender,  and  right  or 


83  WOODSTOCK. 

wrons;  I  must  put  him  in  possession  of  the  Lodge.  I 
would  fain  have  given  your  honour  a  hint  that  tlie  old 
Knight  and  my  young  mistress  were  like  to  take  you  on 
the  foi-m,  hut  1  could  not  mend  the  matter." 

"  Thou  hast  done  well,  good  fellow,  and  1  will  remem- 
ber thee.  And  now,  my  masters,"  he  said,  advancing  to 
the  brace  of  clerks  or  secretaries,  who  had  in  the  mean- 
while sdt  quietly  down  beside  the  stone  bottle,  and  made 
up  acquaintance  over  a  glass  of  its  contents- — "  Let  me 
remind  you,"  said  the  Colonel,  •'  that  the  night  wears 
late." 

"There  is  something  cries  tinkle,  tinkle,  in  the  bottle 
yet,"  said  Wildrake  in  reply. 

"  Hem  !  hem  !  hem  !"  coughed  the  Colonel  of  the 
parliamentarian  service  ;  and  if  his  lips  did  not  curse  his 
companion's  imprudence,  1  will  not  answer  for  what  arose 
in  his  heart. — "Well!"  he  said,  obsejving  that  Wild- 
rake had  filled  his  own  glass  and  Tomkins's  "  take  that 
parting  glass  and  begone." 

"  Would  you  not  be  pleased  to  hear  first,"  said  Wild- 
rake, "  how  this  honest  gentleman  saw  the  devil  to-night 
look  through  a  pane  of  yonder  window,  and  how  he 
thinks  he  had  a  mighty  strong  resemblance  to  your  wor- 
ship's humble  slave  and  varlet  scribbler  ?  Would  you 
but  hear  this,  sir,  and  just  sip  a  glass  of  this  very  recom- 
mendable  strong  waters  ?" 

"  1  will  drink  none,  sir,"  said  Colonel  Everard  sternly  ; 
"and  i  have  to  tell  you,  that  you  have  drunken  a  glass 
too  much  already. — Mr.  Tomkins,  sir,  I  wish  you  good 
night." 

"  A  word  in  season  at  parting,"  said  Tomkins,  stand- 
ing up  behind  the  long  leathern  back  of  a  chair,  hemming 
and  snuffling  as  if  preparing  for  an  exhortation. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  replied  Markham  Everard  sternly  ; 
"  you  are  not  now  sufficiently  yourself  to  guide  the  devo- 
tion of  others." 

"  Woe  be  to  them  that  reject !"  said  the  Secretary 
of  the  Commissioners,    stalking  out  of  the  room — the 


WOODSTOCK.        '  83 

rest  was  lost  in  shutting  the  door,  or  suppressed  for  fear 
of  offence. 

"  And  now,  fool  Wildrake,  begone  to  thy  bed — yonder 
it  lies,"  j)oinling  to  the  Knight's  apartment. 

"  What,  thou  hast  secured  the  lady's  for  thyself  f  I 
saw  thee  put  the  key  in  thy  pocket." 

"  1  woidd  not — indeed  1  could  not  sleep  in  that  apart- 
ment— 1  can  sleep  nowhere — but  I  will  watch  in  this 
armed  chair. — I  have  made  him  place  wood  for  repairing 
the  (ire. — Good  now,  go  to  bed  thyself,  and  sleep  off  thy 
liquor." 

"  Liquor  ! — I  laugh  thee  to  scorn,  Mark — thou  art  a 
milksop,  and  the  son  of  a  milksop,  and  know'st  not  what 
a  good  fellow  can  do  in  the  way  of  crushing  an  honest 
cup." 

"  The  whole  vices  of  his  faction  are  in  this  poor  fellow 
individually,"  said  the  Colonel  to  hinsself,  eying  his  pro- 
tegee askance,  as  the  ctlier  retreated  into  tlie  bed-room 
with  no  very  steady  pace — "  He  is  reckless,  intemperate, 
dissolute  ;  and  if  I  cannot  get  him  safely  shipped  for 
France,  he  will  certainly  be  both  iiis  own  ruin  and  mine. 
— Yet,  withal,  he  is  kind,  brave,  and  generous,  and  would 
have  kept  the  faith  with  me  which  he  now  expects  from 
me;  and  in  what  consists  the  merit  of  our  truth,  if  we 
observe  not  our  plighted  word  when  we  have  promised  to 
our  hurt.''  J  will  take  the  liberty,  however,  to  secme  my- 
self against  farther  interruption  on  his  part." 

So  saying,  he  locked  the  door  of  commum'cation  be- 
tWMXt  the  sleeping-roou),  to  which  the  cavalier  hi'.d  re- 
treated, and  the  parlour  ; — and  then,  after  pacing  the  floor 
thoughtfully,  returned  to  liis  seat,  trimmed  the  h  u^p,  and 
drew  out  a  number  of  letters. — "  I  will  read  these  over 
once  more,"  he  said,  "  that,  if  possible,  the  thought  of 
public  affairs  may  expel  this  keen  sense  of  personal  sor- 
row. Gracious  Providence,  w  here  is  this  to  end  ?  We 
have  sacrificed  the  peace  of  our  families,  the  wannest 
wishes  of  our  young  hearts,  to  right  the  countiy  in  which 
we  were  horn,  and  to  free  her  from  oppression  ;  yet  it 
appears,  that  every  step  we  have  made  towards  hberty, 


84  W( ODSTOCK. 

has  but  brought  us  in  view  of  new  and  more  terrific  perils, 
as  he  who  ijavels  in  a  mouiiiaiiions  region,  is,  by  every 
step  which  elevates  him  highest,  placed  in  a  situation  of 
more  imminent  hazard." 

He  read  long  and  altenlively,  various  tedious  and  em- 
barrassed letters,  in  which  the  writeis,  p  ac  ing  beloie  liim 
the  glory  of  God,  and  tlie  freedom  and  hbeitics  of  Eng- 
land, as  their  supieme  ends,  couhl  not,  by  all  the  ambag- 
itory  expressions  they  made  use  ol,  prt  vent  the  shrewd 
eye  of  Markham  Everard  from  secii  g,  that  self  interest 
and  views  of  ambition  were  the  principal  moving  springs 
at  the  bottom  of  their  plots. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Sleep  steals  on  us  even  like  his  brotln^r  Death — 

\\  e  know  not  when  it  conies — we  know  it  must  come— 

We  mav  affect  to  scorn  and  to  conteimi  it, 

For  'tis  the  highest  pride  of  human  misery 

To  say  it  knows  not  of  aii  opiate  : 

Yet  the  reft  parent,  the  despairing^  lover, 

Even  the  poor  wretch  who  waits  (or  execution, 

Feels  this  ol)livion.  against  whi<h  he  thougiit 

His  woes  had  armed  his  senses,  steal  ujion  him, 

And  throug-h  the  fenceless  citadel— the  hody, 

Surprise  that  haughty  garrison — the  mind. HERBERT, 

Colonel  Everard  experienced  the  truth  contained 
in  the  verses  of  the  quaint  old  bard  whom  we  have  quoted 
above.  Amid  private  grief,  and  anxiety  for  a  country 
long  a  prey  to  civil  war,  and  not  likely  to  fall  soon  under 
any  fixed  or  well-established  form  of  government,  Ev^e- 
rard  and  his  father  had,  like  many  others,  tmned  their 
eyes  to  General  Cromwell,  as  the  person  whose  valour 
had  made  him  the  darling  of  the  army,  whose  strong  sa- 
gacity had  hitherto  predominated  over  the  high  talents 
by  which  he  had  been  assailed  in  Parliament,  as  well  as 


WOODSTOCK. 


85 


over  his  enemies  in  the  field,  and  who  was  alone  in  the 
situation  to  settle  the  nation,  as  the  phrase  then  went ;  or, 
in  other  words,  to  dictate  the  mode  of  governnient. 
The  lather  and  son  were  hoth  reputed  to  stand  high  in 
the  General's  favour.  But  INlarkliam  Everard  was  con- 
scious of  some  particulars,  which  induced  him  to  douht 
whether  Cromwell  actually,  and  at  heart,  bore  either  to 
his  father  or  to  himself  tliat  good-will  which  was  gen- 
erally believed.  He  knew  him  for  a  profound  politician, 
w^io  could  veil  for  any  length  of  time  his  real  sentiments 
of  men  and  things,  imtil  they  could  be  displayed  without 
prejudice  to  his  interest.  And  he  moreover  knew  that 
the  General  was  not  likely  to  forget  the  opposition  which 
the  Presbyterian  party  had  offered  tovvhat  Oliver  called 
the  Great  AJatter — the  trial,  namely,  and  execution  of 
the  King.  In  this  opposition,  his  father  and  he  had  anx- 
iously concurred,  nor  had  the  arguments,  nor  even  the 
half-expressed  threats  of  Cromwell,  induced  them  to 
flinch  from  that  course,  far  less  to  permit  their  names  to 
be  introduced  into  the  commission  nominated  to  sit  in 
judgment  on  that  memorable  occasion. 

This  hesitation  had  occasioned  some  temporary  cold- 
ness between  the  General  and  the  Everards,  father  and 
son.  But  as  the  latter  remained  in  the  army,  and  bore 
arms  under  Cromwell  both  in  Scotland,  and  finally  at 
Worcester,  his  services  very  frequently  called  forth  the 
approbation  of  his  commander.  After  the  fight  of 
Worcester,  in  particular,  he  was  among  the  nuinber  of 
those  officers  on  whom  Oliver,  rather  considering  the 
actual  and  practical  extent  of  his  own  power,  than  the 
name  under  which  he  exercised  it,  was  with  difficulty 
withheld  from  imposing  the  dignity  of  Knights  Bannerets 
at  his  own  will  and  pleasure.  It  therefore  seemed,  that 
all  recollection  of  former  disagreement  was  obliterated, 
and  that  the  Everards  had  regained  their  former  strong- 
bold  in  the  General's  affections.  There  were,  indeed, 
several  who  doubted  this,  and  who  endeavoured  to  bring 
over  this  distinguished  young  officer  to  some  other  of  the 

8       VOL.    I. 


86  WOODSTOCK. 

parties  which  divided  the  infant  Commonwealth.  But 
to  these  proposals  he  turned  a  deaf  ear.  Enough  of 
blood,  he  said,  had  been  spilled — it  was  time  that  the 
nation  should  have  repose  under  a  firmly-established  gov- 
ernment, of  strength  sufficient  to  protect  property,  and 
of  lenity  enough  to  encourage  the  return  of  tranquillity. 
This,  he  thought,  could  only  be  accomplished  by  means 
of  Cromwell,  and  the  greater  part  of  England  was  of  the 
same  opinion.  It  was  true,  that,  in  thus  submitting  to 
the  domination  of  a  successful  soldier,  those  who  did  so, 
forgot  the  principles  upon  which  they  had  drawn  the 
sword  against  the  late  King.  But  in  revolutions,  stern 
and  high  principles  are  often  obliged  to  give  way  to  the 
current  of  existing  circumstances  ;  and  in  many  a  case, 
where  wars  have  been  waged  for  points  of  metaphysical 
right,  they  have  been  at  last  gladly  terminated,  upon  the 
mere  hope  of  obtaining  general  tranquillity,  as,  after 
many  a  long  siege,  a  garrison  is  often  glad  to  submit  on 
mere  security  for  life  and  limb. 

Colonel  Everard,  therefore,  felt  that  the  support  which 
he  afforded  Cromwell,  was  only  under  the  idea,  that, 
amid  a  choice  of  evils,  the  least  was  likely  to  ensue  from 
a  man  of  the  General's  wisdom  and  valour  being  placed 
at  the  head  of  the  state  ;  and  he  was  sensible  that  Oliver 
himself  was  likely  to  consider  his  attachment  as  luke- 
warm and  imperfect,  and  measure  his  gratitude  for  it  upon 
the  same  limited  scale. 

In  the  meanwhile,  however,  circumstances  compelled 
him  to  make  trial  of  the  General's  friendship.  The  se- 
questration of  Woodstock,  and  the  warrant  to  the  Com- 
missioners to  dispose  of  it  as  national  property,  had  been 
long  granted,  but  the  interest  of  the  elder  Everard  had 
for  weeks  and  months  deferred  its  execution.  The  hour 
was  now  approaching  when  the  blow  could  be  no  longer 
parried,  especially  as  Sir  Henry  Lee,  on  his  side,  resisted 
every  proposal  of  submitting  himself  to  the  existing  gov- 
ernment, and  was  therefore,  now  that  his  hour  of  grace 
v/as  passed,  enrolled  in  the  list  of  stubborn  and  irre- 
claimable malignants,  with  whom  the  Council  of  State 


WOODSTOCK.  87 

was  determined  no  longer  to  keep  terms.  The  only 
mode  of  protecting  the  old  Knight  and  his  daughter,  was 
to  interest,  if  possible,  the  General  himself  in  the  matter  ; 
and  revolving  all  the  circumstances  connected  with  their 
intercourse,  Colonel  Everard  felt  that  a  request,  which 
would  so  immediately  interfere  with  the  interests  of  Des- 
borough,  the  brother-in-law  of  Cromwell,  and  one  of  the 
present  Commissioners,  was  putting  to  a  very  severe  trial 
the  friendship  of  the  latter.     Yet  no  alternative  remained. 

With  this  view,  and  agreeably  to  a  request  from  Crom- 
well, who  at  parting  had  been  very  urgent  to  have  his 
written  opinion  upon  public  affairs.  Colonel  Everard  pass- 
ed the  earlier  part  of  the  night  in  arranging  his  ideas 
upon  the  state  of  the  commonwealth,  in  a  plan  which  he 
thought  likely  to  be  acceptable  to  Cromwell,  as  it  exhort- 
ed him,  under  the  ard  of  Providence,  to  become  the 
saviour  of  the  state,  by  convoking  a  free  Parliament,  and 
by  their  aid  placing  himself  at  the  head  of  some  form 
of  liberal  and  established  government,  which  might  su- 
persede the  estate  of  anarchy,  in  which  the  nation  was 
otherwise  likely  to  be  merged.  Taking  a  general  view 
of  the  totally  broken  condition  of  the  royalists,  and  of  the 
various  factions  which  now  convulsed  the  state,  he  showed 
how  this  might  be  done  without  bloodshed  or  violence. 
From  this  topic  he  descended  to  the  propriety  of  keeping 
up  the  becoming  state  of  the  executive  government,  in 
whose  hands  soever  it  should  be  lodged,  and  thus  showed 
Cromwell,  as  the  future  Stadtholder,  or  Consul,  or  Lieu- 
tenant-General  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  a  prospect 
of  demesne  and  residences  becoming  his  dignity.  Then 
he  naturally  passed  to  the  disparking  and  d(  stroying  of 
the  royal  residences  of  England,  made  a  woful  picture 
of  the  demolition  which  impended  over  Woodstock,  and 
interceded  for  the  preservation  of  that  beautiful  seat,  as 
a  matter  of  personal  favour,  in  which  he  found  himself 
deeply  interested. 

Colonel  Everard,  when  he  had  finished  his  letter,  did 
not  find  himself  greatly  risen  in  his  own  opinion.  In  the 
^'^"rse  of  his  political  conduct,  he  had  till  this  hour  avoid- 


B8  WOODSTOCK-. 

ed  mixing  up  personal  motives  with  bis  public  grounds 
of  actio  I,  and  yet  he  now  felt  himself  making  such  a  com- 
position. But  he  comforted  himself,  or  at  least  silenced 
this  unpleasing  recollection,  with  the  consideration,  that 
the  weal  of  Britain,  studied  under  the  aspect  of  the  times, 
absolutely  required  that  Cromwell  should  be  at  the  head 
of  the  government  ;  and  that  the  interest  of  Sir  Henry 
Lee,  or  rather  his  safety  and  his  existence,  no  less  em- 
phatically demanded  the  preservation  of  Woodstock,  and 
his  residence  there.  Was  it  a  fault  of  his,  that  the  same 
road  should  lead  to  both  these  ends,  or  that  his  private 
interest,  and  that  of  the  country,  should  happen  to  mix  in 
the  same  letter  ?  He  hardened  himself,  therefore,  to  the 
act,  made  up  and  addressed  his  packet  to  th.e  Lord  Gen- 
eral, and  then  sealed  it  with  his  seal  of  arms.  This  done, 
he  lay  back  in  his  chair  ;  and,  in  spite  of  his  expectations 
to  the  contrary,  fell  asleep  in  the  course  of  his  reflections, 
anxious  and  harassing  as  they  were,  and  did  not  awaken 
until  the  cold  grey  light  of  dawn  was  peeping  through  the 
eastern  oriel.  # 

He  started  at  first,  rousing  himself  with  the  sensation 
of  one  who  awakes  in  a  place  unknown  to  him  ;  but  the 
localities  instantly  forced  themselves  on  his  recollection. 
The  lamp  burning  dimly  in  the  socket,  the  wood-fire  al- 
most extinguished  in  its  own  wdiite  embers,  the  gloomy 
picture  over  the  chimney-piece,  the  sealed  packet  on  the 
table — all  reminded  him  of  the  events  of  yesterday,  and 
his  deliberations  of  the  succeeding  night. 

«'  There  is  no  help  for  it,"  he  said  ;  "  it  must  be 
Cromwell  or  anarchy.  And  probably  the  sense,  that  his 
title,  as  head  of  the  Executive  Government,  is  derived 
merely  from  popular  consent,  may  check  the  too  natural 
proneness  of  power  to  render  itself  arbitrary.  If  he 
govern  by  Parliaments,  and  with  regard  to  the  privileges 
of  the  subject,  wherefore  not  Oliver  as  well  as  Charles.^ 
But  I  must  take  measures  for  having  this  conveyed  safely 
to  the  hands  of  this  future  soverei2;n  Prince.  Tt  will  be 
well  to  take  the  first  word  of  influence  with  him,  since 


>VOODSTOCK. 


89 


there  must  be  many  who  will  not  hesitate  to  recommend 
counsels  more  violent  and  precipitate." 

He  determined  to  intrust  the  important  packet  to  the 
charge  of  Wildrake,  whose  rashness  was  never  so  distin- 
guished, as  when  by  any  chance  he  was  left  idle  and  un- 
employed ;  besides,  even  if  his  faith  had  not  been  oth- 
erwise unimpeachable,  the  obligations  which  he  owed  to 
his  friend   Everard  must  have  rendered  it  such. 

These  conclusions  passed  through  Colonel  Everard's 
mind,  as,  collecting  the  remains  of  wood  in  the  chimney, 
he  gathered  them  into  a  hearty  blaze,  to  remove  the  un- 
comfortable feeling  of  chillness  which  pervaded  his 
limbs  ;  and  by  the  time  he  was  a  little  more  warm,  again 
sunk  into  a  slumber  which  was  only  dispelled  by  the 
beams  of  morning  peeping  into  his  apartment. 

He  arose,  roused  himself,  walked  up  and  down  the 
room,  and  looked  from  the  large  oriel  windows  on  the 
nearest  objects,  which  were  the  untrimmed  hedges  and 
neglected  walks  of  a  certain  wilderness,  as  it  is  called  in 
ancient  treatises  on  gardening,  which,  kept  of  yore  well 
ordered,  and  in  all  the  pride  of  the  topiary  art,  presented 
a  succession  of  yew  trees  cut  into  fantastic  forms,  of  close 
alleys,  and  of  open  walks,  filling  about  two  or  three 
acres  of  ground  on  that  side  of  the  Lodge,  and  forming 
a  boundary  between  its  immediate  precincts  and  the  open 
Park.  Its  inclosure  was  now  broken  down  in  many 
places,  and  the  hinds  with  their  fawns  fed  free  and  un- 
startled  up  to  the  very  windows  of  the  sylvan  palace. 

This  had  been  a  favourite  scene  of  Markham's  sports 
when  a  boy.  He  could  still  distinguish,  though  now  grown 
out  of  shape,  the  verdant  battlements  of  a  Gothic  castle, 
all  created  by  the  gardner's  shears,  at  which  he  was  ac- 
customed to  shoot  his  arrows,  or,  stalking  before  it  like 
the  Knight-errant  of  whom  he  read,  was  wont  to  blow 
his  horn,  and  bid  defiance  to  the  supposed  giant  or  Pay- 
nim  Knight,  by  whom  it  was  garrisoned.  He  remem- 
bered how  he  used  to  train  his  cousin,  though  several 
years  younger  than  himself,  to  bear  a  part  in  these  revels 

8*       VOL.    I. 


90 


WOODSTOCK. 


of  his  boyish  fancy,  and  to  play  the  character  of  an  elfin 
page,  or  a  fairy,  or  an  enchanted  princess.  He  remem- 
beied,  too,  many  particulars  of  their  later  acquaintance, 
from  which  he  had  been  almost  necessarily  led  to  the 
conclusion,  that  from  an  early  period  their  parents  had 
entertained  some  idea,  that  there  miglit  be  a  well-fitted 
match  betwixt  his  fair  cousin  and  himself.  A  thousand 
visions  formed  in  so  bright  a  prospect  had  vanished  along 
with  it,  but  now  returned  like  shadows,  to  remind  him 
of  all  he  had  lost — and  for  what  f — "  For  the  sake  of 
England,"  his  proud  consciousness  replied, — "Of  Eng- 
land, in  danger  of  becoming  the  prey  at  once  of  bigotry 
and  tyranny."  And  he  strengthened  himself  with  the 
recollection,  "  If  I  have  sacrificed  my  private  happiness, 
it  is  that  my  country  may  enjoy  liberty  of  conscience,  and 
personal  freedom  ;  which,  under  a  weak  Prince  and 
usurping  statesmen,  she  was  but  too  likely  to  have  lost." 

But  the  busy  fiend  in  his  breast  would  not  be  repulsed 
by  the  bold  answer.  "  Has  thy  resistance,"  it  demand- 
ed, "  availed  thy  country,  Markham  Everard  ^  Lies 
not  England,  after  so  much  bloodshed,  and  so  much  mis- 
ery, as  low  beneath  the  sword  of  a  fortunate  soldier  as 
formerly  under  the  sceptre  of  an  encroaching  Prince  ? 
Are  Parliament,  or  what  remains  of  them,  fitted  to  con- 
tend with  a  leader,  master  of  his  soldiers'  hearts,  as  bold 
and  subtle  as  he  is  impenetrable  in  his  designs  ?  This 
General,  who  holds  the  army,  and  by  that  the  fate  of  the 
nation  in  his  hand,  will  he  lay  dow^n  his  power  because 
philosophy  would  pronounce  it  his  duty  to  become  a 
subject  .^" 

He  dared  not  answer  that  his  knowledge  of  Cromwell 
authorized  him  to  expect  any  such  act  of  self-denial. 
Yet  still  he  considered  that  in  times  of  such  infinite  diffi- 
culty, that  must  be  the  best  government,  however  little 
desirous  in  itself,  which  should  most  speedily  restore 
peace  to  the  land,  and  stop  the  wounds  which  the  con- 
tending parties  were  daily  inflicting  on  each  other.  He 
imagined  that  Cromwell  was  the  only  authority  under 
which  a  steady  government  could  be  formed,  and  there- 


"WOODSTOCK. 


91 


fore  had  attached  himself  to  his  fortune,  though  not  with- 
out considerable  and  recurring  doubts,  how  far  serving 
the  views  of  this  impenetrable  and  mysterious  General 
was  consistent  with  the  principles  under  which  he  had 
assumed  arms. 

While  these  things  passed  in  his  mind,  Everard  looked 
upon  the  packet  which  lay  on  the  table  addressed  to  the 
Lord  General,  and  which  he  had  made  up  before  sleep. 
He  hesitated  several  times,  when  he  remembered  its  pur- 
port, and  in  what  degree  he  must  stand  committed  with 
that  personage,  and  bound  to  support  his  plans  of  aggran- 
dizement, when  once  that  communication  was  in  Oliver 
Cronjwell's  possession. 

"  Yet  it  must  be  so,"  he  said  at  last,  with  a  deep 
sigh.  "  Among  the  contending  parties,  he  is  the  strong- 
est— the  wisest  and  most  moderate — and  ambitious 
though  he  be,  perhaps  not  the  most  dangerous.  Some 
one  must  be  trusted  with  power  to  preserve  and  enforce 
genera]  order,  and  who  can  possess  or  wield  such  power 
like  him  that  is  head  of  the  victorious  armies  of  England  ? 
Come  what  will  in  future,  peace  and  the  restoration  of 
law  ought  to  be  our  first  and  most  pressing  object.  This 
remnant  of  a  Parliament  cannot  keep  their  ground  against 
the  army,  by  mere  appeal  to  the  sanction  of  opinion.  If 
they  design  to  reduce  the  soldiery,  it  must  be  by  actual 
warfare,  and  the  land  has  been  too  long  steeped  in  bloods 
But  Cromwell  may,  and  I  trust  will,  make  a  moderate  ac- 
commodation with  them,  on  grounds  by  which  peace  may 
be  preserved  ;  and  it  is  to  this  which  we  must  look  and 
trust  for  a  settlement  of  the  kingdom,  alas  !  and  for  the 
chance  of  protecting  my  obstinate  kinsman  from  the  con- 
sequences of  his  honest  though  absurd  pertinacity." 

Silencing  some  internal  feelinjis  of  doubt  and  reluct- 
ance by  such  reasoning  as  this,  Markham  Everard  con- 
tinued in  his  resolution  to  unite  himself  with  Cromwell 
in  the  struggle  which  was  evidently  approaching  betwixt 
the  civil  and  military  authorities  ;  not  as  the  course  which, 
if  at  perfect  liberty,  he  would  have  preferred  adopting, 
but  as  the  best  choice  between  two  dangerous  extremi- 


92  WOODSTOCK. 

ties  to  which  the  times  had  redaced  him.  He  could  not 
help  trembling,  however,  when  he  recollected  that  his 
father,  though  hitherto  the  admirer  of  Cromwell,  as  the 
implement  by  whom  so  many  marvels  had  been  wrought 
in  England,  might  not  be  disposed  to  unite  with  his  inter- 
est against  that  of  the  Long  Parliament,  of  which  he 
had  been,  till  partly  laid  aside  by  continued  indisposition, 
an  active  and  leading  member.  This  doubt  also  he  was 
obliged  to  swallow,  or  strangle,  as  he  might ;  but  consol- 
ing himself  with  the  ready  argument,  that  it  was  impos- 
sible his  father  could  see  matters  in  another  light  than 
that  in  which  they  occurred  to  himself. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Determined  at  length  to  despatch  his  packet  to  the 
General  without  delay.  Colonel  Everard  approached  the 
door  of  the  apartment,  in  which,  as  was  evident  from  the 
dead  breathing  within,  the  prisoner  Wildrake  enjoyed  a 
deep  slumber,  under  the  influence  of  liquor  at  once  and 
of  fatigue.  In  turning  the  key,  the  bolt,  which  was 
rather  rusty,  made  a  resistance  so  noisy,  as  partly  to  at- 
tract the  sleeper's  attention,  though  not  to  awake  him. 
Everard  stood  by  his  bed-side,  as  he  heard  him  mutter, 
*  Ts  it  morning  already,  jailor  ? — Why,  you  dog,  an'  you 
had  but  a  cast  of  humanity  in  you,  you  would  qualify  your 
vile  news  with  a  cup  of  sack, — hanging  is  sorry  work,  my 
masters — and  sorrow's  dry." 

"  Up,  Wildrake — up,  thou  ill-omened  dreamer,"  said 
his  friend,  shaking  him  by  the  collar. 

"  Hands  off!"  answered  the  sleeper, — "  I  can  climb  a 
ladder  without  help,  I  trow." — He  then  sat  up  in  the 
bed,  and  opening  his  eyes,  stared  around  him,  and  ex- 
claimed, ''Zounds  !  Mark,  is  it  only  thou  ?  1  thought  it 
was  all  over  with  me — fetters  were  struck  from  my  legs 


WOODSTOCK.  93 

— rope  drawn  round  my  gullet — irons  knocked  off  my 
hands — hempen  cravat  lucked  on — all  ready  lor  a  dance 
in  the  open  element  upon  slight  footing." 

"Truce  with  tliy  lolly,  Wildrake  ;  sure  the  devil  of 
drink,  to  whom  thou  hast,  I  think,  sold  thyself " 

"  For  a  hogshead  of  sack,"  interrupted  VVildrake  ; 
"  the  bargain  was  made  in  a  cellar  in  the  vintry." 

"  1  am  as  mad  as  thou  art,  to  trust  anything  to  thee," 
said  Markham  ;  "  1  scarce  believe  thou  hast  thy  senses 
yet." 

"  What  should  ail  me  ?"  said  Wildrake — "  I  trust  I 
have  not  tasted  liquor  in  my  sleep,  saving  that  1  dieam- 
ed  of  drinking  small-beer  witb  Old  IVoll,  of  his  own  brew- 
ing.— But  do  not  look  so  glum,  man — I  am  the  same 
Roger  Wildrake  that  I  ever  was  ;  as  wild  as  a  mallard, 
but  as  true  as  a  gamecock,  I  am  thine  own  chum,  man — 
bound  to  thee  by  thy  kind  deeds — devinctus  leneficio — 
there  is  Latin  for  it  ;  and  where  is  the  thing  thou  wilt 
charge  me  with,  that  I  will  not,  or  dare  not  execute, 
were  it  to  pick  the  devil's  teeth  with  my  rapier,  after  he 
had  breaklasted  upon  roundheads." 

"  You  will  drive  me  mad,"  said  Everard. — '•  When 
lam  about  to  intrust  all  I  have  most  valuable  on  earth  to 
your  management,  your  conduct  and  language  are  those 
of  a  mere  Bedlamite.  Last  night  1  made  allowance  for 
thy  drunken  fury  ;  but  who  can  endure  thy  morning  mad- 
ness f — it  is  unsafe  for  thyself  and  me,  Wildrake — it  is 
unkind — I  might  say  ungrateful." 

"  Nay,  do  not  say  that,  my  friend,"  said  the  cavalier, 
with  some  show  of  feeling  ;  "  and  do  not  judge  of  me 
with  a  severity  that  cannot  apply  to  such  as  1  am.  We 
w4io  have  lost  our  all  in  these  sad  jars,  v\ho  are  compell- 
ed to  shift  for  our  living,  not  from  day  to  day,  but  from 
meal  to  meal — we  whose  only  hiding-place  is  the  jail, 
whose  prospect  of  final  repose  is  the  gallows, — what 
can'st  thou  expect  from  us,  but  to  bear  such  a  lot  with 
a  light  heart,  since  we  should  break  down  under  it  with 
a  heavy  one  V 


94  WOODSTOCK. 

This  was  spoken  in  a  tone  of  feeling  which  found  a 
responding  string  in  Everard's  bosom.  He  took  his 
friend's  hand,  and  pressed  it  kindly. 

"  Nay,  if  1  seemed  harsh  to  thee,  Wildrake,  I  profess 
it  was  for  thine  own  sake  more  than  mine.  1  know  thou 
hast  at  the  bottom  of  thy  levity,  as  deep  a  principle  of 
honour  and  feeling  as  ever  governed  a  human  heart. 
But  thou  art  thoughtless — thou  art  rash — and  I  protest 
to  thee,  that  wert  thou  to  betray  thyself  in  this  matter  in 
which  I  trust  thee,  the  evil  consequences  to  myself  would 
not  afflict  me  more  than  the  thought  of  putting  thee  into 
such  danger." 

"  Nay,  if  you  take  it  on  that  tone,  Mark,"  said  the 
cavaher,  making  an  effort  to  laugh,  evidently  that  he 
might  conceal  a  tendency  to  a  different  emotion,  "  thou 
wilt  make  children  of  us  both — babes  and  sucklings,  by 
the  hilt  of  this  bilbo. — Come,  trust  me  ;  1  can  be  cautious 
when  time  requires  it — no  man  ever  saw  me  drink  when 
an  alert  was  expected — and  not  one  poor  pint  of  wine 
will  I  taste  until  I  have  managed  this  matter  for  thee. 
Well,  1  am  thy  secretary — clerk — I  had  forgot — and  car- 
ry thy  despatches  to  Cromwell,  taking  good  heed  not  to 
be  surprised  or  choused  out  of  my  lump  of  loyalty, 
(striking  his  finger  on  the  packet,)  and  I  am  to  deliver 
it  to  the  most  loyal  hands  to  which  it  is  most  humbly  ad- 
dressed— x\dzooks,  Mark,  think  of  it  a  moment  longer 
— Surely  thou  wilt  not  carry  thy  perverseness  so  far,  as 
to  strike  in  with  this  bloody-minded  rebel  ? — Bid  me 
give  him  three  inches  of  my  dudgeon-dagger,  and  I  will 
do  it  much  more  willingly  than  present  him  with  thy 
packet." 

"  Go  to,"  replied  Everard,  "  this  is  beyond  our  bar- 
gain. If  you  will  help  me,  it  is  well  ;  if  not,  let  me  lose 
no  time  in  debating  with  thee,  since  1  think  every  moment 
an  ag;e  till  the  packet  is  in  the  GeneraPs  possession.  It 
is  the  only  way  left  me  to  obtain  some  protection,  and  a 
place  of  refuge  for  my  uncle  and  his  daughter." 

"  That  being  the  case,"  said  the  cavalier,  "I  will  not 
spare  the  spur.     ]\ly  nag  up  yonder  at  the  town  will  be 


WOODSTOCK.  95 

ready  for  the  road  In  a  trice,  and  thou  mayst  reckon  on 
my  being  with  Old  Noll — thy  General  1  mean — in  as 
short  time  as  man  and  horse  may  consume  betwixt  Wood- 
stock and  Windsor,  where  I  think  I  shall  for  the  present 
find  thy  friend  keeping  possession  where  he  has  slain.'* 

"  Hush,  not  a  word  of  that.  Since  we  parted  last 
night,  1  have  shaped  thee  a  path  which  will  suit  thee 
better  than  to  assume  the  decency  of  language,  and  of 
outward  manner,  of  which  thou  hast  so  little.  1  have  ac- 
quainted the  General  that  thou  hast  been  by  bad  example 
and  bad  education " 

"  Wliich  is  to  be  interpreted  by  contraries,  I  hope," 
said  Wildrake  ;  "  for  sure  J  have  been  as  well  born  and 
bred  up  as  any  lad  of  Leicestershire  might  desire." 

"  Now,  1  prithee  hush — thou  hast,  1  say,  by  bad  ex- 
ample become  at  one  time  a  Malignant,  and  mixed  in  the 
party  of  the  late  King.  But  seeing  what  things  were 
wrought  in  the  nation  by  the  General,  thou  hast  come  to 
a  clearness  touching  his  calling  to  be  a  great  implement 
in  the  settlement  of  these  distracted  kingdoms.  Ihis 
account  of  thee  will  not  only  lead  him  to  pass  over  some 
of  thy  eccentricities,  should  they  break  out  in  spite  of 
thee,  but  will  also  give  thee  an  interest  with  him  as  being 
more  especially  attached  to  his  own  person." 

"Doubtless,"  said  Wildrake,  "as  every  fisher  loves 
best  the  trouts  that  are  of  his  own  tickling." 

"  Ii  is  likely,!  think,  he  will  send  thee  hither  with  let- 
ters to  me,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  enabling  me  to  put  a 
stop  to  the  proceedings  of  these  sequestrators,  and  to  give 
poor  old  Sir  Henry  Lee  permission  to  linger  out  his  days 
among  the  oaks  he  loves  to  look  upon.  I  have  made  it 
my  request  to  him,  and  1  think  my  father's  friendship 
and  my  own  may  stretch  so  far  on  his  regard  without  risk 
of  cracking,  especially  standing  matters  as  they  now  do 
— thou  dost  understand  .f^" 

"  Entirely  well,"  said  the  cavaljer  ;  "  stretch,  quotha  ! 
— I  would  rather  stretch  a  rope  than  hold  commerce  with 
the  old  King-killing  ruffian.  But  1  have  said  I  will  be 
guided  by  thee,  Markham,  and  rat  me  but  I  will." 


96  WOODSTOCK. 

"  Be  cautious  then,"  said  Everard,  "  mark  well  what 
he  does  and  says — tnore  especially  what  he  does  ;  for 
Oliver  is  one  of  those  whose  mind  is  better  known  by  his 
actions  than  by  his  words — and  stay — 1  warrant  thee 
thou  wert  setting  off  without  a  cross  in  thy  purse  f " 

*'  Too  true,  Mark,"  said  VVildrake,  "  the  last  noble 
melted  last  night  amongst  yonder  blackguard  troopers  of 
yours." 

*'  VVell,  Roger,"  replied  the  Colonel,  "  that  is  easily- 
mended."  So  saying,  he  slipped  his  purse  into  his 
friend's  hand.  "  But  art  thou  not  an  inconsequential 
weather-brained  fellow,  to  set  fortli  as  thou  wert  about  to 
do  without  any  thing  to  bear  tliy  charges — what  couldst 
thou  have  done  ?" 

"  Faith,  I  never  thought  of  that — 1  must  have  cried 
Stand,  I  suppose,  to  the  first  pursy  townsman,  or  greasy 
grazier,  that  I  met  o'  the  heath — it  is  many  a  good  fel- 
low's shift  in  these  bad  times." 

"  Go  to,"  said  Everard  ;  "be  cautious — use  none  of 
your  loose  acquaintance — rule  your  tongue — beware  of 
the  wine-pot — for  there  is  hitle  danger  if  thou  couldst 
only  but  keep  thyself  sober — Be  moderate  in  speech, 
and  forbear  oaths  of  vaunting." 

"  In  short,  metamorphose  myself,  into  such  a  prig  as 
thou  art,  Mark. — Well,"  said  VVildrake,  "  so  far  as  out- 
side will  go,  I  think  I  can  make  a  Hope-on-high  Bomby* 
as  well  as  thou  canst.  Ah  !  those  were  merry  days  when 
we  saw  Mills  present  Bomby  at  the  Fortune  play-house, 
Mark,  ere  I  had  lost  my  laced  cloak  and  the  jewel  in 
my  ear,  or  thou  hadst  gotten  the  wrinkle  on  thy  brow, 
and  the  puritanic  twist  of  thy  mustachio  !" 

"They  were  like  most  worldly  pleasures,  Wildrake," 
replied  Everard,  "  sweet  in  the  mouth  and  bitter  in 
digestion. — But  away  with  thee  ;  and  when  thou  bring'st 
back  my  answer,  thou  wilt  find  me  either  here  or  at  Saint 
George's  Inn,  at  the  little  borough. — Good  luck  to  thee 
— Be  but  cautious  how  thou  bearest  thyself." 

*  A  oaritanic  character  in  one  of  Beauniont  and  Fletcher's  plays. 


WOODSTOCK. 


97 


The  Colonel  remained  in  deep  meditation. — *' I  think," 
he  said,  "  I  have  not  pledged  mysell  too  lar  to  the  Gen- 
eral. A  breach  between  him  and  the  Parliament  seems 
inevitable,  and  would  throw  England  back  into  civil  war, 
of  which  all  men  are  wearied.  He  may  dislike  my  mes- 
senger— yet  that  1  do  not  greatly  fear.  He  knows  I 
would  choose  such  as  I  can  myself  depend  on,  and  hath 
dealt  enou2:h  witli  the  stricter  sort  to  be  aware  that  there 
are  among  tliem,  as  well  as  elsewhere,  men  who  can 
hide  two  faces  under  one  hood." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

For  there  in  lofty  air  was  seen  to  stand 
The  stern  Protector  of  tlie  conquer'd  land  ; 
Drawn  in  that  look  with  which  he  wept  and  swore,  ' 
Turn'd  out  the  members,  and  made  fast  the  door, 
Ridding  the  house  of  every  knave  and  drone, 
Forced — though  it  griev'd  his  soul — to  rule  alone. 

The  Frank  Courtship — Crab  BE. 

Leaving  Colonel  Everard  to  his  meditations,  we  fol- 
low the  jolly  cavalier,  his  companion,  who,  before  mount- 
ing at  the  George,  did  not  fail  to  tieat  himself  to  his  morn- 
ing-draught of  eggs  and  muscadine,  to  enable  him  to  face 
the  harvest  wind. 

Although  he  had  suffered  himself  to  be  sunk  in  the 
extravagant  license  which  was  practised  by  the  cavaliers, 
as  if  to  oppose  their  conduct  in  every  point  to  the  pre- 
ciseness  of  their  enemies,  yet  Wildrake,  well  born  and 
well-educated,  and  endowed  with  good  natural  parts,  and 
a  heart  which  even  debauchery,  and  the  wild  life  of  a 
roaring  cavalier,  had  not  been  able  entirely  to  corrupt, 
moved  on  his  present  embassy  with  a  strange  mixture  of 

9       VOL.    I. 


98  >VO(>D  STOCK. 

feelings,  such  as  perhaps  he  had  never  in  his  Hfe  before 
experienced. 

His  feelings  as  a  royalist  led  him  to  detest  Cromwell, 
whom  in  other  circumstances  he  would  scarce  have  wish- 
ed to  see,  except  in  a  held  of  battle,  where  he  could  have 
had  the  pleasure  to  exchange  pistol-shots  witii  him.  But 
with  this  hatred  there  was  mixed  a  certain  degree  of 
fear.  Always  victorious  wherever  he  I'ought,  the  re- 
markable person  whom  Wildrake  was  now  approaching 
had  acquired  that  influence  over  the  minds  of  his  ene- 
mies, which  constant  success  is  so  apt  to  inspire — they 
dreaded  while  they  hated  him — and  joined  to  these  feel- 
ings, was  a  restless  meddling  curiosity,  vvhicli  made  a 
particular  feature  in  Wildrake's  character,  who,  having 
long  had  little  business  of  his  own,  and  caring  nothing 
about  that  which  he  had,  was  easily  attracted  by  tbe  de- 
sire of  seeing  whatever  was  curious  or  interesting  around 
him. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  the  old  rascal  after  all,"  he  said, 
"  were  it  but  to  say  that  I  had  seen  him." 

He  reached  Windsor  in  the  afternoon,  and  felt  on  his 
arrival  the  strongest  inclination  to  take  up  his  residence 
at  some  of  his  old  haunts,  when  he  had  occasionally  fre- 
quented that  fair  town  in  gayer  days.  But  resisting  all 
temptations  of  this  kind,  he  went  courageously  to  the 
principal  inn,  from  which  its  ancient  emblem,  the  Garter 
had  long  disappeared.  The  master,  too,  whom  Wild- 
rake, experienced  in  his  knowledge  of  landlords,  and 
hostelries,  had  remejnbered  a  dashing  Mine  Host  of 
Queen  Bess's  school,  had  now  sobered  down  to  the  tem- 
per of  the  times,  shook  his  head  when  he  spoke  of  the 
Parliament,  wielded  his  spigot  with  the  gravity  of  a  priest 
conducting  a  sacrifice,  wished  England  a  happy  issue  out 
of  all  her  afflictions,  and  greatly  lauded  his  Excellency 
the  Lord  General.  Wildrake  also  remarked,  that  his 
wine  was  better  than  it  was  wont  to  be,  the  Puritans 
having  an  excellent  gift  at  detecting  every  fallacy  in  that 
matter  ;  and  that  his  measures  were  less,  and  his  charges 


WOODSTOCK.  99 

larger — circumstances  which  he  was  induced  to  attend 
to,  by  mine  host  talking  a  good  deal  about  his  conscience. 

He  was  told  by  this  important  personage,  that  the  Lord 
General  received  frankly  all  sorts  of  persons  ;  and  that 
he  might  obtain  access  to  him  next  morning,  at  eight 
o'clock,  for  the  trouble  of  presenting  himself  at  the  castle 
gate,  and  announcing  himself  as  the  bearer  of  despatches 
to  his  Excellency. 

To  the  castle,  the  disguised  cavalier  repaired  at  the 
hour  appointed.  Admittance  was  freely  permitted  to 
IKm  by  the  red-coated  soldier,  who  with  austere  looks, 
and  his  musket  on  his  shoulder,  mounted  guard  at  the 
external  gate  of  that  noble  building.  Wildrake  passed 
through  the  under-ward  or  court,  gazing  as  he  passed 
upon  the  beautiful  Chapel,  which  had  but  lately  received 
in  darkness  and  silence,  the  unhonoured  remains  of  the 
slaughtered  King  of  England.  Rough  as  Wildrake  was, 
the  recollection  of  this  circumstance  affected  him  so 
strongly,  that  he  had  nearly  turned  back  in  a  sort  of  hor- 
ror, rather  than  face  the  dark  and  daring  man,  to  whom, 
amonsjst  all  the  actors  in  that  melancholy  affair,  its  tragic 
conclusion  was  chiefly  to  be  imputed.  But  he  felt  the 
necessity  of  subduing  all  sentiments  of  this  nature,  and 
compelled  himself  to  proceed  in  a  negotiation  intrusted 
to  his  conduct  by  one  to  whom  he  was  so  much  obliged 
as  Colonel  Everard.  At  the  ascent,  which  passed  by 
the  Round  Tower,  he  looked  to  the  ensign-staff,  from 
which  the  banner  of  England  was  wont  to  float.  It  was 
gone  with  all  its  rich  emblazonry,  its  gorgeous  quarter- 
ings,  and  splendid  embroidery  ;  and  in  its  room  waved 
that  of  the  Commonwealth,  the  cross  of  Saint  George, 
in  its  colours  of  blue  and  red,  not  yet  intersected  by  the 
diagonal  cross  of  Scotland,  which  was  soon  after  assum- 
ed in  evidence  of  England's  conquest  over  her  ancient 
enemy.  This  change  of  ensigns  increased  the  train  of 
his  gloomy  reflections,  in  which,  although  coritrary  to  his 
wont,  he  became  so  deeply  wrapped,  that  the  first  thing 
which  recalled  him  to  hiniself,  was  the  challenge  from 
the  sentinel,  accompanied  with  a  stroke  of  the  butt  of  his 


100  WOODSTOCK. 

musket  on  the  pavement  with  an  emphasis  which  made 
Wildrake  start. 

*'  Whither  away,  and  who  are  you  f" 

*'  The  hearer  ol'  a  packet,"  answered  Wildrake,  "  to 
the  worshipful  the  Lord  General." 

"  Stand  till  1  call  the  officer  of  the  guard." 

The  corporal  made  his  appearance,  distinguished  above 
those  of  his  command  by  a  double  quantity  of  band  round 
his  neck,  a  dpuble  height  of  steeple-crowned  hat,  a  larger 
allowance  of  cloak,  and  a  treble  proportion  of  sour  graviu^ 
of  aspect.  It  might  be  read  on  his  countenance,  that  Mv 
was  one  of  those  tremendous  enthusiasts  to  w^iom  Oliver 
owed  his  conquests,  whose  religious  zeal  made  them 
even  more  than  a  match  for  the  high-spirited  and  high- 
born cavaliers,  who  exhausted  their  valour  in  vain  defence 
of  their  sovereign's  person  and  crown.  He  looked  with 
grave  solemnity  at  Wildrake,  as  if  he  was  making  in  his 
own  mind  an  inventory  of  his  features  and  dress  ;  and 
having  fully  perused  them,  he  required,  "  to  know  his 
business." 

"  My  business,"  said  Wildrake,  as  firmly  as  he  could 
- — for  the  close  investigation  of  this  man  had  given  him 
some  unpleasant  nervous  sensations — "  my  business  is 
with  your  General." 

"  With  his  Excellency  the  Lord  General,  thou  w'ould'st 
say  .^"  replied  the  corporal.  "  Thy  speech,  my  friend, 
savours  too  little  of  the  reverence  due  to  his  Excellency," 

*'  D — n  his  Excellency,"  was  at  the  lips  of  the  cava- 
lier ;  but  prudence  kept  guard,  and  permitted  not  the 
offensive  words  to  escape  the  barrier.  He  only  bowed, 
and  was  silent. 

*'  Follow  me,"  said  the  starched  figure  wiiom  he  ad- 
dressed ;  and  Wildrake  followed  him  accordingly  into 
the  guard-house,  vvhich  exhibited  an  interior  characteris-* 
tic  of  the  times,  and  very  different  from  w4iat  such  mili- 
tary stations  present  at  the  present  day. 

By  the  fire  sat  two  or  three  musketeers,  listening  to 
one  vvlio  was  expounding  some  religious  mystery  to  them. 
He  began  half  beneath  his  breath,  but  in  tones  of  great 


WOODSTOCK.  J  01 

volubility,  which  tones,  as  he  approached  the  conclusion, 
became  sharp  and  eager,  as  challenging  either  instant 
answer  or  silent  acquiescence.  The  audience  seemed 
to  listen  to  the  speaker  with  immoveable  features,  only 
answering  him  with  clouds  of  tobacco-smoke,  which  they 
rolled  from  under  iheir  thick  mustachios.  On  a  bench 
lay  a  soldier  on  his  face  ;  whether  asleep,  or  in  a  fit  of 
contemplation,  it  was  impossible  to  decide.  In  the  midst 
of  the  floor  stood  an  officer  as  he  seemed  by  his  embroid- 
ered shoulder-belt  and  scarf  round  his  waist,  other\^-ise 
very  plainly  attired,  who  was  engaged  in  drilling  a  stout 
bumpkin,  lately  enlisted,  to  the  manual,  as  it  was  then 
used.  The  motions  and  words  of  command  were  twenty 
at  the  very  least ;  and  until  they  were  regularly  brought 
to  an  end,  the  corporal  did  not  permit  Wild  rake  either 
to  sit  down  or  move  forward  beyond  the  threshold  of  the 
guard-house.  So  he  had  to  listen  in  succession  to — 
Poize-  your  musket — Rest  your  musket — Cock  youj- 
musket — Handle  your  primers — and  many  other  forgot- 
ten words  of  discipline,  until  at  length  the  words,  •'  Or- 
der your  musket,"  ended  the  drill  for  the  time. 

"  Thy  name,  friend  f"  said  the  officer  to  the  recruit, 
when  the  lesson  was  over. 

"  Ephraim,"  answered  the  fellow  with  an  affected 
twang  through  the  nose. 

"  And  what  besides  Ephrairii  f" 

*•  Ephraim  Cobb,  from  the  godly  city  of  Gloucester, 
where  I  have  dwelt,  for  seven  years,  serving  apprentice 
to  a  praise-worthy  cordwainer.'* 

"  It  is  a  goodly  craft,"  answered  the  officer  ;  '•  but 
casting  in  thy  lot  with  ours,  doubt  not  that  thou  shah  be 
set  beyond  thine  awl,  and  thy  last  to  boot." 

A  grim  smile  of  the  speaker  accompanied  this  poor 
attempt  at  a  pim  5  and  then  turning  round  to  the  corpo- 
ra), who  stood  two  paces  off,  with  the  face  of  one  who 
seemed  desirous  of  speaking,  said,  "  How  now,  corporal, 
what  tidings  ?" 

9*       VOL.    u 


102  WOODSTOCK. 

"  Here  is  one  with  a  packet,  and  please  your  Excel- 
lency," said  the  corporal — "  Surely  my  spirit  does  not 
rejoice  in  him,  seeing  1  esteem  him  as  a  wolf  in  slieep's 
clothing." 

By  these  words,  Wildrake  learned  that  he  was  in  the 
actual  presence  of  the  remarkable  person  to  whom  he  was 
commissioned  ;  and  he  paused  to  consider  in  what  man- 
ner he  ought  to  address  him. 

The  figure  of  Oliver  Cromwell  was,  as  is  generally 
known,  in  no  way  prepossessing.  He  was  of  middle 
stature,  strongly  and  coarsely  made,  with  harsh  and  se- 
vere features,  indicative,  however,  of  much  natural  sa- 
gacity and  depth  of  thought.  His  eyes  were  grey  and 
piercing  ;  his  nose  too  large  in  proportion  to  his  other 
features. 

His  manner  of  speaking,  when  he  had  the  purpose  to 
make  himself  distinctly  understood,  was  energetic  and 
forcible,  though  neither  graceful  nor  eloquent.  No  man 
could  on  such  occasion  put  his  meaning  into  fewer  and 
more  decisive  words.  But  when,  as  it  often  happened, 
he  had  a  mind  to  play  the  orator,  for  the  benefit  of  peo- 
ple's ears,  without  enlightening  their  understanding, 
Cromwell  was  wont  to  invest  his  meaning,  or  that  which 
seemed  to  be  his  meaning,  in  such  a  mist  of  words,  sur- 
roundins:  it  with  so  many  exclusions  and  exceptions,  and 
fortifying  it  with  such  a  labyrinth  of  parentheses,  that 
though  one  of  the  most  shrewd  men  in  England,  he  was, 
perhaps,  the  most  unintelligible  speaker  that  ever  per- 
plexed an  audience.  It  has  been  long  since  said  by  the 
historian,  that  a  collection  of  the  Protector's  speeches 
would  make,  with  a  (ew  exceptions,  the  most  nonsensi- 
cal book  in  the  world  ;  but  he  ought  to  have  added,  that 
nothing  could  be  more  nervous,  concise,  and  intelligible, 
than  what  he  really  intended  should  be  understood. 

It  was  also  remarked  of  Cromwell,  that  though  born 
of  a  good  family,  both  by  father  and  mother,  and  although 
he  had  the  usual  opportunities  of  education  and  breeding 
connected  with  such  an  advantage  ;  the  fanatic  demo- 
cratic ruler  could  never  acquire,  or  else  disdained  to 


WOODSTOCK.  103 

practise,  the  courtesies  usually  exercised  among  the  high- 
er classes  in  their  intercourse  with  each  other.  His  de- 
meanour was  so  blunt  as  sometimes  might  be  termed 
clownish,  yet  there  was  in  his  language  and  manner  a 
force  and  energy  corresponding  to  his  character,  which 
impressed  awe,  if  it  did  not  impose  respect  ;  and  there 
were  even  times  when  that  dark  and  subtle  spirit  expand- 
ed itself,  so  as  almost  to  conciliate  affection.  The  turn 
for  humour,  which  displayed  itself  by  fits,  was  broad  ; 
and  of  low  and  sometimes  practical  character.  Some- 
thing there  was  in  his  disposition  congenial  to  that  of  his 
countrymen  ;  a  contempt  of  folly,  a  hatred  of  affectation, 
and  a  dislike  of  ceremony  which,  joined  to  the  strong 
intrinsic  qualities  of  sense  and  courage,  made  him  in 
many  respects  not  an  unfit  representative  of  the  demo- 
cracy of  England. 

His  religion  must  always  be  a  subject  of  much  doubt, 
and  probably  of  doubt  which  he  himself  could  hardly 
have  cleared  up.  Unquestionably  there  was  a  time  in 
his  life  when  he  was  sincerely  enthusiastic,  and  when  his 
natural  temper,  slightly  subject  to  hypochondria  was 
strongly  agitated  by  the  same  fanaticism  which  influenc- 
ed so  many  persons  of  the  time.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  were  periods  during  his  political  career  \\hen,  we 
certainly  do  him  no  injustice  in  charging  him  with  hyp- 
ocritical affectation.  We  shall  probably  judge  him,  and 
others  of  the  same  age,  most  truly,  if  we  suppose  that 
their  religious  professions  were  partly  influential  in  their 
own  breast,  partly  assmned  in  compliance  with  their  own 
interest.  And  so  ingenious  is  the  human  heart  in  de- 
ceiving itself  as  well  as  others,  that  it  is  probable  neither 
Cromwell  himself,  nor  those  making  similar  pretensions 
to  distinguished  piety,  could  exactly  have  fixed  the  point 
at  which  their  enihusiasm  terminated  and  their  hypocrisy 
commenced,  or  rather,  it  was  a  point  not  fixed  in  itself, 
but  fluctuatine:  with  the  state  of  health,  of  good  or  bad 
fortune,  of  high  or  low  spirits,  affecting  the  individual  at 
the  period. 


104  WOODSTOCK. 

Such  was  the  celebrated  person,  who,  turning  round 
on  Wildrake,  and  scanning  his  countenance  closely, 
seemed  so  little  satisfied  with  what  he  beheld,  that  he  in- 
stinctively hitciied  forward  his  belt,  so  as  to  bring  the 
handle  of  his  tuck  sword  within  his  reach.  But  yet, 
folding  his  arms  in  his  cloak,  as  if  upon  second  thoughts 
laying  aside  suspicion,  or  thinking  precaution  beneath 
him,  he  asked  the  cavalier  what  he  was,  and  whence  he 
came  ? 

"  A  poor  gentleman,  sir, — that  is,  my  lord," — answer- 
ed Wildrake  ;  "  last  from  Woodstock." 

"  And  what  may  your  tidings  be,  sir  gentleman  V  said 
Cromwell,  with  an  emphasis.  "  Truly  I  have  seen  those 
most  willing  to  take  upon  them  that  title,  bear  themselves 
somewhat  short  of  wise  men,  and  good  men,  and  true 
men,  with  all  their  gentility  :  Yet  gentleman  was  a  good 
title  in  old  England,  when  men  remembered  what  it  was 
construed  to  mean." 

"  You  say  truly,  sir,"  replied  Wildrake,  suppressing, 
with  difficulty,  some  of  his  usual  wild  expletives ;  "  for- 
merly gentlemen  were  found  in  gentlemen's  places,  but 
now  the  world  is  so  changed,  that  you  shall  find  the  broi- 
dered  belt  has  changed  place  with  the  under  spur- 
leather." 

"  Say'st  thou  me  ?"  said  the  General ;  '•  I  profess  thou 
art  a  bold  companion,  that  can  bandy  words  so  wantonly  ; 
— thou  ring'st  somewhat  too  loud  to  be  good  metal,  me- 
thinks  :  And,  once  again,  what  are  thy  tidings  with  me  V^ 

"Tliis  packet,"  said  Wildrake,  "commended  to  your 
hands  by  Colonel  Markham  Everard." 

"  Alas,  I  must  have  mistaken  thee,"  answered  Crom- 
well, mollified  at  the  mention  of  a  man's  name  whom  he 
had  great  desire  to  make  his  own  ;  "  forgive  us,  good 
friend,  for  such,  we  doubt  not,  thou  art.  Sit  thee  down, 
and  commune  with  thyself  as  thou  mayst,  until  we  have 
examined  the  contents  of  thy  packet.  Let  liim  be  looked 
to,  and  have  what  he  lacks."  So  saying  the  General  left 
the  guard-house,  where  Wildrake  took  his  seat  in  the 
corner,  and  awaited  with  patience  the  issue  of  his  mission. 


WOODSTOCK. 


105 


The  soldiers  now  thought  themselves  obliged  to  treat 
him  with  luore  consideration,  and  offered  him  a  pipe  of 
Trinidadoe,  and  a  black  jack  filled  with  October.  But 
the  look  of  Cromwell,  and  the  dangerous  situation  in 
whicli  he  mis^ht  be  plncefl  by  the  least  chance  of  detec- 
tion, induced  VVildrake  to  decline  these  hospitable  ofiers, 
and  stretching  back  in  his  chair,  and  affecting  slumber, 
he  escaped  notice  or  conversation,  until  a  sort  of  aid-de- 
camp, or  military  officer  in  attendance,  came  to  summon 
him  to  Cromwell's  presence. 

Bv  this  person  he  was  guided  to  a  postern -gate,  through 
which  he  entered  the  body  of  the  Castle,  and  penetrating 
through  many  private  passages  and  stair-cases,  he  at 
length  was  introduced  into  a  small  cabinet,  or  parlour,  in 
which  was  much  rich  furniture,  some  bearing  the  royal 
cipher  displayed,  but  all  confused  and  disarranged,  to- 
gether with  several  paintings  in  massive  irrmes,  having 
their  faces  turned  towards  the  wall,  as  if  they  had  been 
taken  down  for  the  puipose  of  being  removed. 

In  this  scene  of  disorder,  the  victorious  General  of  the 
Commonwealth  was  seated  in  a  large  easy-chair,  cover- 
ed with  damask,  and  deeply  embroidered,  the  s|)lendour 
of  which  made  a  strong  contrast  with  the  plain,  and  even 
homely  character  of  his  apparel  ;  although  in  look  and 
action  he  seemed  like  one  who  felt  that  the  seat  which 
might  have  in  former  days  held  a  Prince,  was  not  too 
much  distinguished  for  his  own  fortunes  and  ambition. 
Wildrake  stood  before  him,  nor  did  he  ask  him  to  sit 
down. 

"  Pearson,"  said  Cromwell,  addressing  himself  to  the 
officer  in  attendance,  "  wait  in  the  gallery,  but  be  within 
call."  Pearson  bowed,  and  was  retiring.  "  Who  are  in 
the  gallery  besides  f" 

"  Worthy  Mr.  Gordon  the  chapinin  vvr.s  holding  forth 
but  now  to  Colonel  Overton,  and  four  captains  of  your 
Excellency's  regiment." 

"  We  would  have  it  so,"  said  the  General  ;  "  we 
would  not  there  were  any  corner  in  our  dwelling  where 


106  WOODSTOCK. 

the  hungry  soul  might  not  meet  with  manna.  Was  the 
good  .ndi)  carried  onward  in  his  discourse  f" 

"  Mightily  borne  through,"  said  Pearson  ;  "  and  he 
was  touching  the  rightful  claims  which  the  army,  and 
especially  your  Excellency,  hath  acquired,  by  becoming 
the  instruments  in  the  great  work  ; — not  instruments  to 
be  broken  asunder  and  cast  away  when  the  day  of  their 
service  is  over,  but  to  be  preserved,  and  held  precious 
and  prized  for  their  honourable  and  faithful  labours,  for 
which  they  have  fought  and  marched,  and  fasted,  and 
"prayed,  and  suffered  cold  and  sorrow  ;  while  others,  who 
would  now  gladly  see  them  disbanded,  and  broken,  and 
cashiered,  eat  of  the  fat,  and  drink  of  the  strong." 

"  Ah,  good  man  !"  said  Cromwell,  "  and  did  he  touch 
upon  this  so  feelin2;ly  ?  I  could  say  something — but  not 
now.  Begone,  Pearson,  to  the  gallery.  Let  not  our 
friends  lay  aside  their  swords,  but  watch  as  well  as  pray." 

Pearson  retired  ;  and  the  General,  holding  the  letter 
of  Everard  in  his  hand,  looked  again  for  a  long  while 
fixedly  at  Wildrake,  as  if  considering  in  what  strain  he 
should  address  him. 

When  he  did  speak,  it  was,  at  first,  in  one  of  those  am- 
biguous discourses  which  we  have  already  described,  and 
by  which  it  was  very  difficult  for  any  one  to  understand 
his  meaning,  if,  indeed,  he  knew  it  himself.  We  shall 
be  as  concise  in  our  statement,  as  our  desire  to  give  the 
very  words  of  a  man  so  extraordinary  will  permit. 

"  This  letter,"  he  said,  "you  have  brought  us  from 
your  master,  or  patron,  Markham  Everard  ;  truly  an  ex- 
cellent and  honourable  gentleman  as  ever  bore  a  sword 
upon  his  thigh,  and  one  who  hath  ever  distinguished  him- 
self in  the  great  work  of  delivering  these  three  poor 
and  unhappy  nations. — Answer  me  not  :  1  know  what 
thou  would'st  say. — And  this  le'uer  he  hath  sent  to  me 
by  thee,  his  clerk,  or  secretary,  in  whom  he  hath  confi- 
dence, and  in  whom  he  prays  me  to  have  trust,  that 
there  may  be  a  careful  messenger  between  us.  And 
lastly,  he  hath  sent  thee  to  me — Do  not  answer — T  know 
what  thou  would'st  say, — to  me,  vi^ho  albeit  I  am  of  that 


>yOOD  STOCK. 


107 


small  consideration,  that  it  would  be  too  much  honour  for 
me  even  to  bear  a  halbert  in  this  great  and  victorious 
army  ol  Engiland,  am  nevertheless  exaJled  to  the  rank  of 
holding  tlie  guidance  and  the  ieading-staft'  thereot. — Nay, 
do  not  answer,  my  triend — 1  know  what  thou  wouid'st 
say. — Now,  when  connnuning  thus  togetlier,  our  dis- 
course taketh,  in  respect  to  what  1  have  said,  a  thieetold 
argument,  or  division  :  First,  as  it  concernelh  thy  mas- 
ter ;  secondly,  as  it  concerneth  us  and  our  office  ;  thirdly 
and  lastly,  as  it  toucheth  thyself.  Now,  as  concerning 
this  good  and  worthy  gentleman,  Colonel  Markliam  Ev- 
erard,  truly  he  hath  played  tlie  man  from  the  beginning 
of  these  unhappy  bufi'etmgs,  not  turning  to  the  ri^ljt  or 
to  the  left,  but  holding  ever  in  his  eye  the  mark  at  which 
he  aimed.  Ay,  truly,  a  faithful  honourable  geniltmaii, 
and  one  who  [nay  well  call  me  friend  ;  and  truly  I  am 
pleased  to  think  that  he  doth  so.  Nevertheless,  in  this 
vale  of  tears,  we  must  be  governed  less  by  our  private 
respects  and  partialities,  than  by  those  higber  principles 
and  points  of  duty,  whereupon  the  good  Colonel  Aiark- 
ham  Everard  hath  ever  framed  his  purposes,  as,  truly,  I 
have  endeavoured  to  form  mine,  that  we  may  all  act  as 
becometh  good  Eng^shmen  and  worthy  patriots.  II, en, 
as  for  Woodstock,  it  is  a  great  thing  which  the  good  Col- 
onel asks,  that  it  should  be  taken  from  the  spoil  of  the 
godly,  and  left  in  keeping  of  the  men  of  JMoab,  and  es- 
pecially of  the  malignant,  Henry  Lee,  whose  hand  hath 
been  ever  against  us  when  he  n)ight  find  loom  to  raise  it ; 
I  say,  he  hath  asked  a  great  thing,  both  in  respect  of 
himself  and  me.  For  we  of  this  poor  but  godly  army  of 
England,  are  holden,  by  tJiese  of  the  Parliament,  as  men 
who  should  render  in  si)6il  i9r  them,  but  be  no  sharer  of 
it  ourselves  ;  even  as  the  buck,  which  the  hounds  pull  to 
earth,  furnish  no  part  of  their  food,  but  they  are  lashed 
off  from  the  carcass  with  whips,  like  those  which  require 
punishment  for  their  forwardness  not  reward  for  their 
services.  Yet  I  speak  not  this  so  much  in  lespect  of  this 
grant  of  Woodstock,  in  regard  that,  perhaps,  their  Lord- 
ships of  the  Council,  and  also  the  Conmiittee-njen  of  this 


108  AVOODSTOCK. 

Parliament,  may  graciously  think  they  have  given  me  a 
portion  in  the  matter,  in  relation  that  my  kinsman  Des- 
borough  hath  an  interest  allowed  him  ihtrein  ;  which  in- 
terest, as  he  hath  well  deserved  it  for  his  true  and  faith- 
ful service  to  tliese  unha[)py  and  devoted  countries,  so  it 
will  ill  become  me  to  dinnnishlhe  same  to  his  prejudice, 
unless  it  were  upon  great  and  public  respects.  Thus 
thou  seest  how  it  stands  with  me,  my  honest  friend,  and 
in  what  mind  1  stand  touching  this  thy  master's  request 
to  me  ;  which  yet  I  do  not  say  that  I  can  altogether,  or 
unconditionally,  grant  or  refuse,  but  only  tell  my  simple 
thouo;hts  with  regard  thereto.  Thou  understandest  me, 
I  doubt  not  r" 

Now,  Rosier  Wildrake,  with  all  the  attention  he  had 
been  able  to  pay  to  the  Lord  General's  speech,  had  got 
so  much  confused  among  the  various  clauses  of  the  ha- 
rangue, that  his  brain  was  bewildered,  like  that  of  a  coun- 
try clown  when  he  chances  to  get  himself  involved  aiuong 
a  crowd  of  carriages,  and  cannot  stir  a  step  to  get  out  of 
the  way  of  one  of  them,  without  being  in  danger  of  being 
ridden  over  by  the  others. 

The  General  saw  his  look  of  perplexity,  and  began 
a  new  oration,  to  the  same  purpose  as  before  ; — spoke  of 
his  love  for  his  kind  friend  the  Colonel, — his  regard  for 
his  pious  and  godly  kinsman.  Master  Desborougb, — the 
great  importance  of  the  palace  and  Park  of  Woodstock, 
— the  determination  of  the  Parliament  that  it  should  be 
confiscated,  and  the  produce  brought  into  the  coffers  of 
the  state, — his  own  deep  veneration  for  the  authority  of 
Parliament,  and  his  no  less  deep  sense  of  the  injustice 
done  to  the  army, — how  it  was  his  wish  and  will  that  all 
matters  should  be  settled  in  an  amicable  and  friendly 
manner  without  self-seeking,  debate,  or  strife,  betwixt 
those  who  had  been  the  hands  acting,  and  such  as  had 
been  the  heads  governing,  in  that  great  national  cause, — 
how  he  was  willins;,  truly  willing,  to  contribute  to  this 
work,  by  laying  down,  not  his  commission  only,  but  his 
life  also,  if  it  were  requested  of  hicn,  or  could  be  granted 
with  safety  to  the  poor  soldiers,  to  whom,  silly  poor  men, 


WOODSTOCK.  109 

he  was  bound  to  be  as  a  father,  seeing  thai  they  had  fol- 
lowed liiin  with  the  duty  and  affection  of  cbiJdjen. 

And  here  lie  arrived  ui  another  dead  pause,  leaving 
Wi, drake  as  uncertain  as  belore,  wlielher  it  was  (^r  was 
not  Ins  purpose  to  grant  Colonel  Everard  the  poweis  he 
had  asked  lor  the  piotection  of  Woodstock  against  the 
Parliamentary  Con»inissioners.  Internally  he  began  to 
entertain  liopes  that  the  justice  of  Heaven,  or  the  effects 
of  remorse,  had  confounded  the  regicide's  undei stand- 
ing.— But  no — he  could  see  nothing  but  sngacily  in  that 
steady  stern  eye,  which,  while  the  tongue  poujed  lorth 
its  periphrastic  language  in  such  profusion,  seemed  to 
watch  with  severe  accuracy  the  effect  which  his  oratory 
produced  on  the  listener. 

"  Egad,"  thought  the  cavalier  to  himself,  becoming 
a  little  familiar  with  the  situation  in  whidi  he  was  phiced, 
and  rather  impatient  of  a  cf)nversalion  which  led  to  no 
visible  conclusion  or  termination,  "  if  Noll  were  the  devil 
himself,  as  he  is  the  devil's  darling,  1  will  not  be  thus 
nose-led  by  him.  I'll  e'en  brusque  it  a  little,  if  he  goes 
on  at  this  rate,  and  try  if  I  can  bring  him  to  a  more  in- 
telligible mode  of  speaking." 

Entertaining  this  bold  pm  pose,  but  half  afraid  to  exe- 
cute it,  VVildrake  lay  by  for  an  opportimity  of  tnaking  the 
attempt,  while  Cromwell  was  apparently  unable  to  ex- 
press his  own  meaniiis:.  He  was  already  beginning  a 
third  panegyric  upon  Colonel  Everard,  with  sundty  varied 
exp  essions  of  his  ow n  w ish  to  oblige  him,  when  Wi'drake 
took  the  oppoi  lunity  of  a  pause  to  strike  in,  on  the  Gen- 
eral's making  one  of  his  oratorical  pauses. 

*'  So  please  you,"  he  said,  bluntly,  "  your  worship  has 
already  spoken  on  two  topics  of  yom-  discourse,  vour 
own  worthiness,  and  that  of  my  master.  Colonel  Everard. 
But,  to  enable  me  to  do  mine  errand,  it  would  be  neces- 
sary to  bestow  a  ^e\v  words  on  the  third  head." 

"The  third  !"  said  Cromwell. 

"  Ay,"  said  Wildrake,  "which,  in  your  honour's  sub- 
division of  your  discourse,  touched  on  my  unworthy  self. 

10       VOL.    I. 


no 


WOODSTOCK. 


What  am  I  to  do — what  portion  am  I  to  have  in  this 
matter  ?" 

Oliver  started  at  once  from  the  tone  of  voice  he  had 
hitherto  used,  and  wljich  soinewhut  resembled  the  purring 
of  a  domestic  cat,  into  the  growl  of  the  tiger  when  about 
to  spring.  "  Thy  portion,  jail-bird  !"  he  exclaimed, 
"  the  grillows — thou  siialt  hang  as  high  as  Haman,  if  thou 
betray  counsel  ! — But,"  he  added,  soitening  his  voice, 
"  keep  it  like  a  true  man,  and  my  favour  will  be  the  mak- 
ing of  thee.  Come  hither — thou  art  bold,  I  see,  though 
somewhat  saucy.  Thou  hast  been  a  malignant — so  wiites 
my  wortliy  friend  Colonel  Everard  ;  but  thou  hast  now 
given  up  that  falling  cause.  I  tell  thee,  friend,  not  all 
that  the  P.irliamont  or  ilie  army  could  do  would  have 
pulled  dow^n  the  Stuarts  out  of  their  high  places,  saving 
that  Heaven  had  a  controversy  with  them.  Well,  it  is  a 
sweet  and  comely  thing  to  buckle  on  one's  armour  in  be- 
half of  Heaven's  cause  ;  otlierw^ise  truly,  for  mine  own 
pirt,  these  men  migiit  have  remained  upon  the  throne 
eVen  unto  this  day.  Neither  do  I  blame  any  for  aiding 
them,  until  these  successive  great  judgments  have  over- 
whelmed them  and  their  house. .  I  am  not  a  bloody  man, 
having  in  me  the  feeling  of  human  frailty  ;  but,  fiiend, 
v/hosoever  putteth  his  hand  to  the  plough,  in  the  great 
actings  wliich  are  now  on  foot  in  these  nations,  had  best 
beware  that  they  do  not  look  back  ;  for,  rely  upon  my 
simple  word,  that  if  you  fail  me,  I  will  not  spare  on  you 
one  foot's  length  of  the  gallows  of  Haman.  Let  me 
therefore  know,  at  a  w^ord,  if  the  leaven  of  thy  mahg- 
nancy  is  altogether  drubbed  out  of  thee  f" 

"  Vour  honourable  lordship,"  said  the  cavalier,  shrug- 
ging up  his  shoulders,  "  has  done  that  for  most  of  us,  so 
far  as  cudgelling  to  some  tune  can  perform  it." 

*'  Say'st  thou  ?"  said  the  General,  w^ith  a  grim  smile 
on  his  lip,  which  seemed  to  intimate  that  he  was  not  quite 
inaccessible  to  flattery  ;  "  yea,  truly,  thou  dost  not  lie  in 
that — we  have  been  an  instrument.  Neither  are  we,  as 
I  have  already  hinted,  so  severely  bent  against  those  who 
have  striven  against  us  as  malignants,  as  others  may  be. 


WOODSTOCK. 


Ill 


The  Parliament-men  best  know  their  own  interest  and 
their  ovvh  pleasure  ;  but,  to  my  poor  tliinking,  it  is  full 
time  to  close  these  jars,  and  to  allow  men  of  all  kinds 
the  means  of  doing  service  to  their  country  ;  and  we  think 
it  will  be  thy  fault  if  thou  art  not  employed  to  good  pur- 
pose for  the  stale  and  thyself,  on  condition  thou  puttest 
away  the  old  man  entirely  from  thee,  and  givest  thy 
earnest  attention  to  what  1  have  to  tell  thee." 

"  Your  lordship  need  not  doubt  my  attention,"  said  the 
cavalier. 

And  the  republican  General,  after  another  pause,  as 
one  who  gave  his  confidence  not  without  hesitation,  pro- 
ceeded to  explain  his  vievvs  with  a  distinctness  which  he 
seldom  used,  yet  not  without  his  being  a  little  biassed 
now  and  then,  by  his  long  habits  of  circumlocution,  which 
indeed  he  seldom  laid  entirely  aside,  save  in  the  field  of 
battle. 

"  Thou  seest,"  he  said,  "  my  friend,  how  things  stand 
with  me.  The  Parliament,  T  care  not  who  knows  it, 
love  me  not — still  less  do  the  Council  of  State,  by  whom 
they  manage  the  executive  government  of  the  kingdom. 
I  cannot  tell  why  they  nourish  suspicion  against  me,  un- 
less it  is  because  I  will  not  deliver  this  poor  innocent 
army,  which  has  followed  ine  in  so  many  military  actions, 
to  be  now  pulled  asunder,  broken  piece-meal  and  re- 
duced, so  that  they  who  have  protected  the  state  at  the 
expense  of  their  blood,  will  not  have,  perchance,  the 
means  of  feeding  themselves  by  their  labour  ;  which,  me- 
thinks,  were  hard  measure,  since  it  is  taking  from  Esau 
his  birth-right  even  without  giving  him  a  poor  mess  of 
pottage." 

"  Esau  is  likely  to  help  himself,  I  think,"  replied 
Wildrake. 

"  Truly,  thou  say'st  wisely,"  replied  the  General ;  "  it 
is  ill  starving  an  armed  man,  if  there  is  food  to  be  had 
for  taking — nevertheless,  far  be  it  from  me  to  encourage 
rebellion,  or  want  of  due  subordination  to  these  our  rulers. 
I  would  only  petition  in  a  due  and  becoming,  a  sweet  and 
harmonious  manner,  that  they  would  listen  to  our  condi- 


112  WOODSTOCK. 

tions,  and  consider  our  necessities.  But,  sir,  looking  on 
me,  and  esteemina;  me  so  little  as  they  do,  you  must  tiiink 
that  it  would  be  a  provocation  m  me  towards  the  Council 
of  State,  PS  well  as  the  Parliament,  if,  simply  to  gratify 
your  worthy  master,  1  were  to  act  contrary  to  their  pur- 
poses, or  deny  currency  to  the  commission  under  their 
authority,  which  is  as  yet  the  highest  in  the  State — and 
long  may  it  be  so  for  rne  ! — to  carry  on  tlie  sequestration 
which  they  intend.  And  would  it  not  also  be  said,  that 
I  was  lending  myself  to  the  malignant  interest,  affording 
this  den  of  the  blood-thirsty  and  lascivious  tyrants  of  yore, 
to  be  in  this  our  day  a  place  of  refuge  to  that  old  and 
inveterate  Amalekite  Sir  Henry  Lee,  to  keep  possession 
of  the  place  in  which  he  hath  so  long  glorified  liimself  ? 
Truly,  it  would  be  a  perilous  matter." 

"  Am  I  then  to  report,"  said  Wildrake,  "  an  if  it  please, 
you,  that  you  cannot  stead  Colonel  Everard  in  this  mat- 
ter ?" 

"  Unconditionally,  ay — but,  taken  conditionally,  the 
answer  may  be  otherwise," — answered  Cromwell.  *'  I 
see  thou  art  not  able  to  fathom  my  purpose,  and  there- 
fore I  will  partly  unfold  it  to  thee. — But  take  notice,  that 
should  thy  tongue  betray  my  council,  save  in  so  far  as 
carrying  it  to  thy  master,  by  all  the  blood  which  has 
been  shed  in  these  wild  times,  thou  shalt  die  a  thousand 
deaths  in  one  !" 

"  Do  not  fear  me,  sir,"  said  Wildrake,  whose  natural 
boldnes«!  and  carelessness  of  character  was  for  the  present 
time  borne  down  and  quelled,  like  that  of  falcons  m  the 
presence  of  the  eagle. 

"  Hear  me,  then,"  said  Cromwell,  "  and  let  no  syllable 
escape  thee.  Knowest  thou  not  the  young  Lee  whom 
they  call  Albert,  a  malignant  like  his  fath'er,  and  one  who 
went  up  with  the  young  man  to  that  last  ruffle  which  we 
had  with  him  at  Worcester  ? — May  we  be  grateful  for 
the  victory  !" 

"  1  know  there  is  such  a  young  gentleman  as  Albert 
Lee,"  said  Wildrake, 


WOODSTOCK.  113 

"  And  knowest  thou  not — I  speak  not  by  way  of  pry- 
ing into  the  good  Colonel's  secrets,  but  only  as  it  behoves 
me  to  know  something  of  the  matter  that  I  may  best 
judge  how  I  am  to  serve  him — Knowest  thou  not  that  thy 
master,  ^larkham  Everard,  is  a  suitor  after  the  sister  of 
this  same  malignant,  a  daughter  of  the  old  Keeper,  called 
Sir  Henry  Lee  r" 

"  All  this  I  have  heard,"  said  Wildrake,  "  nor  can  I 
deny  that  1  believe  in  it." 

"  Well  then,  go  to. — When  the  young  man  Charles 
Stuart  fled  from  the  field  of  Worcester,  and  was  by  sharp 
chase  and  pursuit  compelled  to  separate  himself  from  his 
followers,  1  know  by  sure  intelligence  that  this  Albert  Lee 
was  one  of  the  last  who  remained  with  him,  if  not  indeed 
the  very  last." 

"  It  was  devilish  like  him,"  said  the  cavalier,  without 
sufficiently  weighing  his  expressions,  considering  in  what 
presence  they  were  to  be  uttered — "  And  I'll  uphold  him 
with  my  rapier,  to  be  a  true  chip  of  the  old  block." 

"Ha,  swearest  thou  ?"  said  the  General.  "Is  this 
thy  reformation  r" 

"  I  never  swear,  so  please  you,"  replied  Wildrake, 
recollecting  himself,  "  except  there  is  some  mention  of 
malignants  and  cavaliers  in  my  hearing  ;  and  then  the  old 
habit  returns,  and  I  swear  like  one  of  Goring's  troopers." 

"  Out  upon  thee,"  said  the  General  ;  "  what  can  it 
avail  thee  to  practise  a  profanity  so  horrible  to  the  ears  of 
others,  and  which  brings  no  emolument  to  him  who 
uses  it  .'^" 

"  There  are  doubtless  more  profitable  sins  in  the 
world  than  the  vice  of  swearing,'*  was  the  answer  which 
rose  to  the  lips  of  the  cavalier;  but  that  was  exchanged 
for  a  profession  of  regret  for  having  given  oflence.  The 
truth  was,  the  discourse  began  to  take  a  turn  which  ren- 
dered it  more  interesting  than  ever  to  Wildrake,  who 
therefore  detprniined  not  to  lose  the  opportunity  for  ob- 
tainins:  possession  of  the  secret  that  seemed  to  be  sus- 

10*       VOL.    I. 


114  WOODSTOCK. 

pended  on  Cromwell's  lips  ;  and  that  could  only  be 
through  means  of  keeping  guard  upon  his  own. 

"  What  sort  of  a  house  is  Woodstock  ?"  said  the  Gen- 
eral abruptly. 

"  An  old  mansion,"  said  Wildrake  in  reply  ;  "  and  so 
far  as  1  could  judge  by  a  single  night's  lodgings,  having 
abundance  of  back  stairs,  also  subterranean  passages,  and 
all  the  communications  under  ground,  which  are  common 
in  old  raven-nests  of  the  sort." 

"  And  places  for  concealing  priests  unquestionably,'* 
said  Cromwell.  "It  is  seldom  that  such  ancient  houses 
lack  secret  stalls  wherein  to  mew  up  these  calves  of 
Bethel." 

"  Your  Honour's  Excellency,"  said  Wildrake,  "  may 
swear  to  tliat." 

"  I  swear  not  at  all," — replied  the  General  drily. — 
*'  But  what  think'st  thou,  good  fellow  ? — I  will  ask  thee 
a  blunt  question — Where  will  those  two  Worcester  fugi- 
tives that  thou  wottest  of  be  more  likely  to  take  shelter 
• — and  that  tliey  must  be  sheltered  somewhere,  I  well 
know — than  in  this  same  old  palace,  with  all  the  corners 
and  concealments,  whereof  young  Albert  hath  been  ac- 
quainted ever  since  his  earliest  infancy  ?" 

"  Truly,"  said  Wildrake,  making  an  effort  to  answer 
the  question  with  seeming  indifference,  while  the  possi- 
bility of  such  an  event,  and  its  consequences,  flashed 
fearfully  upon  his  mind, — "  Truly,  I  should  be  of  your 
honour's  opinion,  but  that  I  think  the  company,  who,  by 
the  commission  of  Parliament,  have  occupied  Wood- 
stock, are  likely  to  fright  them  thence,  as  a  cat  scares 
doves  from  a  pigeon-house.  The  neighbourhood,  with 
reverence,  of  Generals  Desborough  and  Harrison,  will 
suit  ill  with  fugitives  from  Worcester-field." 

"  I  thought  as  much,  and  so,  indeed,  would  I  have  it," 
answered  the  General.  "  Long  may  it  be  ere  our  names 
shall  be  aught  but  a  terror  to  our  enemies  :  But  in  this 
matter,  if  thou  art  an  active  plotter  for  thy  master's  inter- 
est, thou  might'st,  I  should  think,  workout  something  fa- 
vourable to  his  present  object." 


WOODSTOCIv.  li-> 

'*  My  brain  is  too  poor  to  reach  the  depth  of  your  hon- 
ourable purpose,"   said  Wildrake. 

*'  Listen  then,  and  let  it  be  to  profit,"  answered  Crom- 
well. "  Assuredly  the  conquest  at  Worcester  was  a  great 
and  crowning  mercy  ;  yet  might  we  seem  to  be  but  small 
in  our  thankfulness  for  the  same,  did  we  not  do  what  in 
us  lies  towards  the  ultimate  improvement  and  final  con- 
clusion of  the  great  work  which  has  been  thus  prosperous 
in  our  hands,  professing,  in  pure  humility  and  singleness 
of  heart,  that  we  do  not,  in  any  way,  desire  our  instru- 
mentality to  be  remembered,  nay,  would  rather  pray  and 
entreat,  that  our  name  and  fortunes  were  forgotten,  than 
that  the  great  work  were  in  itself  incomplete.       Never- 


theless, truly,  placed  as  we  now  are,  it  concerns  us  more 
nearly  than  others, — that  is,  if  so  poor  creatures  should 
at  all  speak  of  themselves  us  concerned,  whether  more 
or  less,  with  these  changes  which  have  been  wTought 
around,  not,  I  say,  by  ourselves,  or  our  own  power,  but 
by  the  destiny,  to  which  we  were  called,  fulfilling  the 
same  with  all  meekness  and  humility — I  say  it  concerns 
us  nearly  that  all  things  should  be  done  in  conformity 
with  the  great  work  which  hath  been  wrought,  and  is  yet 
working,  in  these  lands.  Such  is  my  plain  and  simple 
meaning.  Nevertheless,  it  is  much  to  be  desired  that  this 
young  man,  this  king  of  Scots,  as  he  called  himself — this 
Charles  Stuart — should  not  escape  forth  from  the  nation, 
where  his  arrival  has  wrought  so  much  disturbance  and 
bloodshed." 

"  I  have  no  doubt,"  said  the  cavalier,  looking  down, 
"that  your  lordship's  wisdom  hath  directed  all  things  as 
they  may  best  lead  towards  such  a  consummation  ;  and 
I  pray  your  pains  may  be  paid  as  they  deserve." 

"  I  thank  thee,  friend,"  said  Cromwell,  with  much 
humility  ;  "  doubtless  we  shall  meet  our  reward,  being 
in  the  hands  of  a  good  paymaster,  who  never  passeth 
Saturday  ni^ht.  But  understand  me,  friend — I  desire 
no  more  than  my  own  sfiare  in  the  good  work.  1  would 
heartily  do  what  poor  kindness  T  can  to  your  worthy 
master,  and  even  to  you  in  your  degree — for  such  as  I 


116  WOODSTOCK. 

do  not  converse  with  ordinary  men,  that  our  presrnce 
may  be  forgotten  hke  an  every-day's  occurrence.  We 
speak  to  men  hke  thee  for  their  reward  or  their  punish- 
ment ;  and  I  trust  it  will  be  the  former  which  thou  in  thine 
office  wilt  merit  at  my  hand." 

"  Your  honor,"  said  Wildrake,  "  speaks  like  one  ac- 
customed to  conmiand." 

"  True ;  men's  minds  are  likened  to  those  of  my  de- 
gree by  fear  and  reverence,"  said  the  General  ; — "  but 
enough  of  that,  desiring,  as  I  do,  no  other  dependency 
on  my  special  person  than  is  alike  to  us  all  upon  ihat  which 
is  above  us.  But  I  would  desire  to  cast  this  golden  ball 
into  your  master's  cap.  He  hath  served  against  this 
Charles  Stuart  and  his  father.  But  he  is  a  kinsman  near 
to  the  old  knight  Lee,  and  stands  well  affected  towards 
his  daughter.  Thou  also  wilt  keep  a  watch,  my  friend — 
that  ruftiing  look  of  thine  will  procure  thee  the  confi- 
dence of  every  malignant,  and  the  prey  cannot  approach 
this  cover,  as  though  to  shelter,  like  a  coney  in  the  rocks, 
but  thou  wilt  he  sensible  of  his  presence." 

"  I  make  a  shift  to  comprehend  your  Excellency,'* 
said  the  cavalier  ;  "  and  I  thank  you  heartily  for  the  good 
opinion  you  have  put  upon  me,  and  which,  I  pray,  1  may 
have  son]e  handsome  opportimity  of  deserving,  that  I 
may  show  my  gratitude  by  the  event.  But  still,  with 
reverence,  your  Excellency's  scheme  seems  unlikely, 
while  Woodstock  remains  in  possession  of  the  sequestra- 
tors. Both  the  old  Knight  and  his  son,  and  far  more 
such  a  fugitive  as  your  honor  hinted  at,  will  take  special 
care  not  to  approach  it  till  they  are  renioved." 

"  It  is  for  that  I  have  been  dealing  with  thee  thus 
long,"  said  the  General. — "I  told  thee  that!  was  some- 
thing unwilling,  upon  sli2;ht, occasion,  to  dispossess  the  se- 
questrators by  my  own  proper  warrant,  although  having, 
perha})s,  sufficient  authority  in  the  state  both  to  do  so,  and 
to  despise  the  murmurs  of  those  who  blame  me.  In 
brief,  1  would  be  loth  to  tamper  with  my  privileges,  and 
make  experiments  between  their  strength,  and  the  powers 
of  the  commission  granted  by  others,  without  need,  or  at 


WOODSTOCK.  117 

least  great  prospect  of  advantage.  So,  if  thy  Colonel 
will  undertake,  for  his  love  of  the  Republic,  to  find  the 
means  of  preventing  its  worst  and  nearest  danger,  which 
must  needs  occur  from  the  escape  of  this  young  man,  and 
will  do  his  endeavour  to  stay  him,  in  case  his  flight  should 
lead  him  to  Woodstock,  which  1  hold  very  likely,  1  will 
give  thee  an  order  to  these  sequestrators,  to  evacuate 
the  palace  instantly  ;  and  to  the  next  troop  of  my  regi- 
ment, which  lies  at  Oxford,  to  turn  them  out  by  the 
shoulders,  if  they  make  any  scruples — Ay,  even,  for 
example's  sake,  if  they  drag  Desborough  out  foremost, 
thougli  he  be  wedded  to  my  sister." 

"  So  please  you,  sir,"  said  Wildrake,  "  and  with  your 
most  powerful  warrant,  I  trust  1  might  expel  the  commis- 
sioners, even  without  the  aid  of  your  most  warlike  and 
devout  troopers." 

"  That  is  what  I  am  least  anxious  about,"  replied  the 
General  ;  "  I  should  like  to  see  the  best  of  them  sit 
after  1  had  nodded  to  them  to  begone — always  excepting 
the  worshipful  House,  in  whose  name  our  commissions 
run  ;  but  who,  as  some  think,  will  be  done  with  politics 
ere  it  be  time  to  renew  them.  Therefore,  what  chiefly 
concerns  me  to  know,  is,  whether  thy  master  will  embrace 
a  traffic  which  hath  such  a  fair  promise  of  profit  with  it. 
lam  well  convinced  that  with  a  scout  like  thee,  who  hast 
been  in  the  cavalier's  quarters,  and  canst,  1  should  guess, 
resume  thy  drinking,  ruffianly  health-quaffing  manners 
whenever  thou  hast  a  mind,  he  must  discover  where  this 
Stuart  hath  ensconced  himself.  Either  the  young  Lee 
will  visit  the  old  one  in  person,  or  he  will  write  to  him, 
or  hold  communication  with  him  by  letter.  At  all  events, 
Markham  Everard  and  thou  must  have  an  eye  in  every 
hair  of  your  head."  While  he  spokp,  a  flush  passed 
over  his  brow,  he  rose  from  his  chair,  and  paced  the 
apartment  in  agitation.  "  Woe  to  you,  if  you  suffer  the 
young  adventurer  to  escape  me  ! — you  had  better  be  in 
the  deepest  dungeon  in  Europe,  than  breathe  the  air  of 
England,  should  you  hut  dream  of  playing  me  false.  I 
have  spoken  freely  to  thee,  fellow — more  freely  than  is  my 


118  WOODSTOCK. 

wont — the  time  required  it.  But  to  share  my  confidence 
is  hke  keeping  a  watch  over  a  }30wder  niagazine,  the  least 
and  most  insignificant  spark  blows  thee  to  ashes.  Tell 
your  master  what  1  said — but  not  how  I  said  it — Fie, 
that  I  should  have  been  betrayed  into  the  disteinperature 
of  passion  ! — Begone,  sirrah.  Pearson  shall  bring  thee 
sealed  orders — Yet,  stay — thou  hast  something  to  ask." 
'*  I  would  know,"  said  VVildrake,  to  wlioin  the  visible 
anxiety  of  the  General  gave  some  confidence,  "  what  is 
the    figure  of  this  young  gallant,  in    case  1  should  find 

him  r 

"  A  tall,  raw-boned,  sw^arthy  lad,  they  say  he  has  shot 
up  into.  Here  is  his  picture  by  a  good  hand,  some  time 
since."  He  turned  round  one  of  the  portraits  which 
stood  with  its  face  against  the  wall  ;  but  it  proved  not  to 
be  tiiat  of  Charles  the  Second,  but  of  his  unhappy  father. 

The  first  motion  of  Cromwell  indicated  a  purpose  of 
hastily  replacing  the  picture,  and  it  seemed  as  if  an  effort 
was  necessary  to  repress  his  disinclination  to  look  upon 
it.  But  he  did  repress  it,  and  placing  tiie  picture  against 
the  wall,  withdrew  slowly  and  sternly,  as  if,  in  defiance 
of  his  own  feeling,  he  was  determined  to  gain  a  place 
from  which  to  see  it  to  advantage.  It  was  well  for  Wild- 
rake  that  his  dangerous  companion  had  not  turned  an  eye 
on  him,  for  his  blood  also  kindled  when  he  saw  the  por- 
trait of  his  master  in  the  hands  of  the  chief  author  of  his 
death.  Being  a  fierce  and  desperate  man,  he  command- 
ed his  passion  with  great  difficulty  ;  and  if,  on  its  first 
violence,  he  had  been  provided  with  a  suitable  weapon, 
it  is  possible  Cromwell  would  never  have  ascended  higher 
in  his  hold  ascent  towards  supreme  power. 

But  this  natural  and  sudden  flash  of  indignation,  which 
rushed  through  the  veins  of  an  ordinary  man  like  Wild- 
rake,  was  presently  subdued,  when  confronted  with  the 
strong  yet  stifled  emotion  displayed  by  so  powerful  a 
character  as  Cromwell.  As  the  cavalier  lopked  on  his 
dark  and  bold  coimienance,  as^ilated  by  inward  and  in- 
describable feelin2;s,  he  found  his  own  violence  of  spirit 
die  away  and  lose  itself  in  fear  and  wonder.     So  true  it  is, 


WOODSTOCK.  119 

that  as  greater  lights  swallow  up  and  extinguish  the  dis- 
play of  those  which  are  less,  so  men  of  great,  capacious, 
and  over-ruling  minds,  bear  aside  and  subdue,  in  their 
climax  of  passion,  the  more  feeble  wills  and  passions  of 
others  ;  as,  when  a  river  joins  a  brook,  tiie  fiercer  torrent 
shoulders  aside   the  smaller  stream. 

Wildrake  stood  a  silent,  inactive,  and  almost  a  terrified 
spectator,  while  Cromwell,  assun}ing  a  firm  sternness  of 
eye  and  njanner,  as  one  who  compels  himself  to  look  on 
what  son)e  strong  interiial  feeling  renders  painful  and  dis- 
gustful to  liim,  proceeded  in  brief  and  interrupted  ex- 
piesi^ions,  but  yet  with  a  firm  voice,  to  comiiienl  on  the 
portrait  of  the  late  King.  His  words  seetped  less  ad- 
dressed to  Wildrake,  than  to  be  the  spontaneous  unbur- 
thening  of  his  own  bosom,  swelling  under  recollection  of 
the  past,  and  anticipation  of  the  future. 

"  That  Flemish  painter,"  he  said — "  that  Antonio 
Vandyke — what  a  power  he  has  !  Steel  may  nuit  late, 
warriors  may  waste  and  destroy — still  the  Kit  g  si;  nc!s  un- 
injured by  lime  ;  and  our  grandchildren,  while  they  read 
his  history,  may  look  on  his  image,  and  compare  the  njel- 
ancholy  features  with  the  woful  tale.  It  was  a  stern  ne- 
cessity— it  was  an  awful  deed  !  The  calm  piide  of  that 
eye  mislit  have  ruled  worlds  of  crouching  Fienclimen, 
or  supple  Italians,  or  formal  Spaniards,  but  its  glances  on- 
ly roused  the  native  courage  of  the  stern  Englishman. — 
Lay  not  on  poor  sinful  man,  whose  breath  is  in  his  nos- 
trils, I  he  blame  that  he  falls,  when  Heaven  never  gave 
him  strength  of  nerves  to  stand  !  Tlie  weak  rider  is 
thrown  by  his  unruly  horse,  and  tran^pled  to  death — ;the 
strongest  man,  the  best  cavalier,  springs  to  the  emj)ty  sad- 
dle, and  uses  bit  and  spur  till  the  fiery  horse  knows  its 
master.  Who  blames  him,  who,  mounted  aloft,  rides 
triumphantly  amongst  the  people,  for  having  succeeded, 
where  the  unskilful  and  feeble  fell  and  died  ?  Verily  he 
hath  his  reward  :  Then,  what  is  that  piece  of  painted 
canvass  to  me  more  than  others  .'*  No  ;  let  him  show  to 
others  the  reproaches  of  that  cold,  calm  face,  that  proud 
yet  complaining  eye  :    Those  who  have  acted  on  higher 


120  WOODSTOCK. 

respects  have  no  cause  to  start  at  painted  shadows.  Not 
wealth  nor  power  brought  me  from  my  obscurity.  The 
oppressed  consciences,  the  injured  hberties  of  England, 
were  the  banner  that  1  followed." 

He  raised  his  voice  so  high,  as  if  pleading  in  his  own 
defence  before  some  tribunal,  that  Pearson,  the  officer 
in  attendance,  looked  into  the  apartment  ;  and  observing 
his  master,  with  his  eyes  kindling,  his  arm  extended,  his 
foot  advanced,  and  his  voice  raised,  like  a  general  in  the 
act  of  commanding  the  advance  of  his  army,  he  instantly 
withdrew. 

*'  It  was  other  than  selfish  regards  that  drew  me  forth 
to  action,"  continued  Cromwell,  "  and  1  dare  the  world 
— ay,  living  or  dead  I  challenge — to  assert  that  1  armed 
for  a  private  cause,  or  as  a  means  of  enlarging  my  for- 
tunes. Neither  was  there  a  trooper  in  the  regiment  who 
came  there  with  less  of  evil  will  to  yonder  unhappy " 

At  this  moment  the  apartment  opened,  and  a  gentle- 
womai)  entered,  who,  from  her  resemblance  to  the  Gen- 
eral, although  her  features  were  soft  and  feminine,  might 
be  immediately  recognized  as  his  daughter.  She  walked 
up  to  Cromwell,  gently  but  firmly  passed  her  arm  through 
his,  and  said  to  him  in  a  persuasive  tone,  "  Father,  this 
is  not  well — you  have  promised  me  this  should  not  hap- 
pen." 

The  General  hung  down  his  head,  like  one  who  was 
either  ashamed  of  the  passion  to  which  he  had  given  way, 
or  of  the  influence  which  was  exercised  over  him.  He 
yielded,  however,  to  the  affectionate  impulse,  and  left  the 
apartment,  without  again  turning  his  bead  towards  the 
portrait  which  had  so  much  affected  him. 


WOODSTOCK.  121 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Doctor. — Go  to,  go  to^You  have  knowTi  what  you  should  not. 

Maebetk, 

WiLDRAKE  was  left  in  the  cabinet,  astonished  and 
alone.  It  was  often  noised  about,  that  Cromwell,  the 
deep  and  sagacious  statesman,  the  calm  and  intrepid 
commander,  he  who  had  overcome  such  difficulties,  and 
ascended  to  such  heights,  that  he  seemed  already  to 
bestride  the  land  which  he  had  conquered,  had,  like  many- 
other  men  of  great  genius,  a  constitutional  taint  of  melan- 
choly, which  sometimes  displayed  itself  both  in  words 
and  actions,  and  had  been  first  observed,  in  that  sudden 
and  striking  change,  when,  abandoning  entirely  the  dis- 
solute freaks  of  his  youth,  he  embraced  a  very  strict 
course  of  religious  observances,  which,  upon  some  oc- 
casions, he  seemed  to  consider  as  bringing  him  into  more 
near  and  close  contact  with  the  spiritual  world.  This 
extraordinary  man  is  said  sometimes,  during  that  period 
of  liis  life,  to  have  given  way  to  spiritual  delusions,  or,  as 
he  himself  conceived  them,  prophetic  inspirations  of  ap- 
proaching grandeur,  and  of  strange,  deep,  and  mysterious 
agencies,  in  which  he  was  in  future  to  be  engaged,  in  the 
same  manner  as  his  younger  years  had  been  marked  by- 
fits  of  exuberant  and  excessive  frolic  and  debaucheries. 
Something  of  this  kind  seemed  to  explain  the  ebullitions 
of  passion  which  he  had  now  manilested. 

With  wonder  at  what  he  had  witnessed,  Wildrake  felt 
some  anxiety  on  his  own  account.  Thoue^h  not  the  most 
reflecting  of  mortals,  he  had  sense  enough  to  know,  that 
it  is  dangerous  to  be  a  witness  of  the  infirmities  of  men 
high  in  power  ;  and  he  was  left  so  long  by  himself,  as 
induced  him  to  entertain  some  secret  doubts,  whether  the 

11        VOL.    I. 


122 


AVOODSTOCK. 


General  might  not  be  tempted  to  take  means  of  confining 
or  reinoving  a  witness,  who  had  seen  him  lowered,  as  it 
seemed,  by  the  suggestions  of  his  own  conscience, 
beneath  that  lofty  fligiit,  which  in  general,  he  affected  to 
sustain  above  the  rest  of  the  sublunary  world. 

In  tliis,  however,  he  wronged  Cromwell,  who  was  free 
either  from  an  extreme  degree  of  jealous  suspicion,  or 
from  any  thing  wi)ich  approached  towards  blood-thirsti- 
ness. Pearson  appeared,  after  a  lapse  of  about  an  hour, 
and,  intimating  to  Wildrake  that  he  w^as  to  follow,  con- 
ducted him  into  a  distant  apartment,  in  which  he  found 
the  General  seated  on  a  low  couch.  His  daughter  was 
in  the  apartment,  but  remained  at  some  distance,  seem- 
ed busied  with  some  female  w^ork,  and  scarce  turned  her 
head  as  Pearson  and  Wildrake  entered. 

At  a  sign  Iroui  the  Lord  General,  Wildrake  approach- 
ed him  as  before.  ''  Friend,"  lie  said,  "your old  friends 
the  cavaliers  look  on  me  as  their  enemy,  and  conduct 
themselves  towards  me  as  if  they  desired  to  make  me 
such.  I  profess  they  are  labouring  to  their  own  preju- 
dice ;  for  I  regard,  and  have  ever  regarded  them,  as  hon- 
est and  honourable  fools,  who  were  silly  enough  to  run 
their  necks  into  nooses,  and  their  heads  against  stone- 
w\\\s,  that  a  man  called  Stuart,  and  no  other,  should  be 
King  over  them.  Fools  !  are  there  no  words  made  of 
letters  that  would  soimd  as  well  as  Charles  Stuart,  with 
that  mastic  title  beside  them  f  Why,  the  word  King  is 
like  a  lisihted  lamp,  that  throws  the  same  bright  gilding 
upon  any  combination  of  the  alphabet,  and  yet  you  must 
shed  your  blood  for  a  name  !  But  thou,  for  thy  part,  shalt 
have  no  wrong  from  me.  Here  is  an  order,  well  vA^arrant- 
ed,  to  clear  the  Lodge  at  Woodstock,  and  abandon  it  to 
thy  master's  keeping,  or  those  whom  he  shall  appoint. 
He  will  have  his  uncle  and  pretty  cousin  w-ith  him,  doubt- 
less. Fare  thee  well — think  on  what  I  told  thee.  They 
say  beauty  is  a  loadstone  to  yonder  long  lad,  thou  dost 
wot  of  ;  but  I  reckon  he  has  other  stars  at  present  to 
direct  his  course  than  bright  eyes  and  fair  hair.  Be  it  as 
it  may,  thou  knowest  my  purpose — peer  out,  peer  out ; 


WOODSTOCK. 


123 


keep  a  constant  and  careful  lookout  on  every  ragged  patch 
that  wanders  by  iiedgerow  or  lane — these  are  days  uhen 
a  beggar's  cloak  iriMy  cover  a  King's  ransom.  There  are 
some  broad  Portugal  pieces  for  thee — something  strange 
to  thy  pouch,  1  ween. — Once  more,  think  on  what  thou 
hast  heard,  and,"  he  added,  in  a  lower  and  more  impres- 
sive tone  of  voice,  "  forget  what  thou  hast  seen.  My 
service  to  tliy  master  ; — and,  yet  once  again,  remember 
— and  forget^  Wildrake  made  his  obseisance.  and, 
returning  to  his  inn,  left  Windsor  with  all  possible  speed. 

It  was  afternoon  in  the  same  day  when  the  cavalier 
rejoined  his  roundhead  Iriend,  who  was  anxiously  ex- 
pecting hun  at  the  inn  in  Woodstock  appointed  for  their 
rendezvous. 

"  Wjiere  hast  thou  been  ? — what  hast  thou  seen  ? — what 
strange  uncertainty  is  in  thy  looks  .'' — and  why  dost  thou 
not  answer  me  ?" 

*'  liecause  V^  said  Wildrt^ke,  laying  aside  his  riding 
cloak  and  rapier,  "  you  ask  so  many  questions  at  once. 
A  man  has  but  one  tongue  to  answer  with,  and  mine  is 
well  nigh  glued  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth." 

*'  Will  drink  loosen  it  V*  said  the  Colonel  !  "  though  I 
dare  say  tliou  hast  tried  that  spell  at  every  ale-house  on 
the  road.  Call  for  what  thou  would'st  have,  man,  only 
be  quick." 

"  Colonel  Everard,"  answered  Wildrake,  "  1  have  not 
tasted  so  much  as  a  cup  of  cold  water  this  day." 

"  Then  thou  art  out  of  humour  for  that  reason,"  said 
the  Colonel  ;  "  sajve  thy  sore  with  brandy,  if  thou  wilt, 
but  leave  being  so  fantastic  and  unlike  to  thyself,  as  thou 
showest  in  this  silent  mood." 

"  Colonel  Everard,"  replied  the  cavaher,  very  gravely, 
"  I  am  an  altered  man." 

"  I  think  thou  dost  alter  every  day  in  the  year,  and 
every  hour  of  the  day.  Come,  good  now,  tell  me,  hast 
thou  seen  the  General,  and  got  his  warrant  for  clearing 
out  tlie  sequestrators  from  Woodstock  V 

"  1  have  seen  the  devil,"  said  Wildrake,  "  and  hast 
as  thou  sav'st,  cot  a  warrant  from  him." 


124  WOODSTOCK. 

"  Give  it  me  hastily,"  said  Everard,  catching  at  the 
packet. 

"  Forgive  me,  Mark,"  said  Wildrake  ;  "  if  thou  knew- 
est  the  purpose  with  which  this  deed  is  granted — if  thou 
knewest — what  is  not  my  purpose  to  tell  thee — what 
manner  of  hopes  are  founded  on  tliy  accepting  it,  1  have 
that  opinion  of  thee,  Mark  Everard,  that  thou  wouldst  as 
soon  take  a  red  hot  horse  shoe  from  the  anvil  with  thy 
bare  hand,  as  receive  into  it  this  slip  of  paper." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Everard,  "  this  comes  of  some 
of  your  exalted  ideas  of  loyalty,  which,  excellent  within 
certain  bounds,  drive  us  mad  when  encouraged  up  to 
some  heights.  Do  not  think,  since  1  must  needs  speak 
plainly  with  thee,  that  I  see  without  sorrow  the  downfall 
of  our  ancient  monarchy,  and  the  substitution  of  another 
form  of  government  in  its  stead  ;  but  ought  my  regret  for 
the  past  to  prevent  my  acquiescing  and  aiding  in  such 
measures  as  are  likely  to  settle  the  future  ?  The  rpyal 
cause  is  ruined,  hadst  thou  and  every  cavalier  in  England 
sworn  the  contrary  ;  ruined,  not  to  rise  again, — for  many 
a  day  at  least.  The  Parliament,  so  often  draughted  and 
drained  of  those  who  were  courageous  enough  to  main- 
tain their  own  freedom  of  opinion,  is  now  reduced  to  a 
handful  of  statesmen,  who  have  lost  the  respect  of  the 
people,  from  the  length  of  time  during  which  they  have 
held  the  supreme  management  of  affairs.  They  cannot 
stand  long  unless  they  were  to  reduce  the  army  ;  and  the 
army,  late  servants,  are  now  masters,  and  will  refuse  to 
be  reduced.  They  know  their  strength,  and  that  they 
may  be  an  army  subsisting  on  pay  and  free  quarters 
throughout  England  as  long  as  they  will.  1  tell  thee, 
Wildrake,  unless  we  look  to  the  only  man  who  can  rule 
and  manage  them,  we  may  expect  military  law  through- 
out the  land  ;  and  I,  for  mine  own  part,  look  for  any 
preservation  of  our  privileges  that  may  be  vouchsafed  to 
us,  only  through  the  wisdom  and  forbearance  of  Crom- 
well. Now  you  have  my  secret.  You  are  aware  that  I 
am  not  doing  the  best  I  would,  but  the  best  I  can.  I  wish 
— not  so  ardently  as  thou,  perhaps — vet  I  do  wish  that 


WOODSTOCK.  125 

the  King  could  have  been  restored  on  good  terms  of  com- 
position, safe  for  us  and  for  himself.  And  now,  good 
Wildrake,  rebel  as  thou  thinkest  me,  make  me  no  worse 
a  rebel  than  an  unwilling  one.  God  knows,  I  never  laid 
aside  love  and  reverence  to  the  King,  even  in  drav.ing 
my  sword  against  his  ill  advisers." 

"  Ah,  plague  on  you,"  said  Wildrake,  "  that  is  the 
very  cant  of  it — that's  what  you  all  say.  All  of  you 
fought  against  the  King  in  pure  love  and  loyalty,  and  not 
otherwise.  However  I  see  your  drift,  and  ]  own  that  I 
like  it  better  than  I  expected.  The  army  is  your  bear 
now,  and  Old  Noll  is  your  bearward  ;  and  you  are  like 
a  country  constable,  who  makes  interest  with  the  bear- 
ward  that  he  may  prevent  him  from  letting  bruin  loose. 
Well,  tliere  may  come  a  day  when  the  sun  will  shine  on 
our  side  of  the  lence,  and  thereon  ^hall  you,  and  all  the 
good  fair-weather  folks  who  love  the  stronger  party  come 
and  make  common  cause  with  us." 

Without  much  attending  to  what  his  friend  said,  Colo- 
nel Everard  carefully  studied  the  warrant  of  Cromwell. 
"  It  is  bolder  and  more  peremptory  than  1  expected,"  he 
said.  '*  The  General  must  feel  himself  strong,  when  he 
opposes  his  own  authority,  so  directly  to  that  of  the  coun- 
cil of  State  and  the  Parliament." 

"  You  will  not  hesitate  to  act  upon  it  ?"  said  Wildrake. 

"  That  I  certainly  will  not,"  answered  Everard  ;  "  bur 
I  must  wait  till  I  have  the  assistance  of  the  Mayor,  who. 
I  think,  will  gladly  see  these  fellows  ejected  from  the 
Lodge.  I  must  not  go  altogether  upon  military  authority, 
if  possible."  Then  stepping  to  the  door  of  the  apartment, 
he  despatched  a  servant  of  the  house  in  quest  of  the  chief 
magistrate,  desiring  he  should  be  made  acquainted  that 
Colonel  Everard  desired  to  see  him  with  as  little  loss  of 
time  as  possible. 

"  You  are  sure  he  will  come,  like  a  dog  at  a  whistle,'* 
said  Wildrake.  "  The  word  captain,  or  colonel,  makes 
the  fat  citizen  trot  in  these  days,  uhen  one  sword  is  worth 
fifty  corporation  charters.     But  there  are  dragoons  yon- 

11*      VOL     i» 


126  WOODSTOCK. 

der,  as  well  as  the  grim  faced  knave  whom  I  frightened 
the  other  evening  when  I  showed  my  face  in  at  the  win- 
dow.   Think'st  thou  the  knaves  will  show  no  rough  play  f " 

"  The  General's  warrant  will  weigli  more  with  them 
than  a  dozen  acts  of  Parliament,"  said  Everard. — "  But 
it  is  time  thou  eatest,  if  thou  hast  in  truth  ridden  from 
Windsor  hither  without  baiting." 

"  I  care  not  about  it,"  said  Wildrake  :  "  I  tell  thee, 
your  General  gave  me  a  breakfast,  which,  I  think,  will 
serve  me  one  while,  if  I  ever  am  able  to  digest  it.  By 
the  mass,  it  lay  so  heavy  on  my  conscience,  that  I  car- 
ried it  to  church  to  see  if  I  could  digest  it  there  with  my 
other  sins.     But  not  a  whit." 

^'  Ta  church  ! — to  the  door  of  the  church,  thou  mean- 
est," said  Everard.  "  I  know  thy  way — thou  art  ever 
wont  to  pull  thy  hat  aff  reverently  at  the  threshold,  but 
for  crossing  it;  that  day  seldom  comes." 

*'  Well,"  repHed  Wildrake,  "  and  if  I  do  pull  ofF  my 
castor  and  kneel,  is  it  not  seemly  to  show  the  same  respects 
in  a  church,  which  we  offer  in  a  palace  ?  It  is  a  dainty 
matter,  is  it  not,  to  see  your  Anabaptists,  and  Brownists, 
and  the  rest  of  you,  gather  to  a  sermon  with  as  little  cer- 
emony as  hogs  to  a  trough  ^  But  here  comes  food,  and 
now  for  a  grace,  if  I  can  remember  one." 

Everard  was  too  much  interested  about  the  fate  of  his 
uncle  and  his  fair  cousin,  and  the  prospect  of  restoring 
them  to  their  quiet  home,  under  the  protection  of  that 
formidable  truncheon  which  w^as  already  regarded  as  the 
leading-staff  of  England,  to  remark,  that  certainly  a  great 
alteration  had  taken  place  in  the  manners  and  outward 
behaviour,  at  least,  of  his  companion.  His  demeanour 
frequently  evinced  a  sort  of  struggle  betwixt  old  habits 
of  indulgence,  and  some  newly  formed  resolutions  of  ab- 
stinence ;  and  it  was  almost  ludicrous  to  see  how  often 
the  hand  of  the  neophyte  directed  itself  naturally  to  a 
large  black  leathern  jack,  which  contained  two  double 
flagons  of  strong  ale,  and  how  often,  diverted  from  its 
purpose  by  the  better  reflections  of  the  reformed  toper, 


WOODSTJCK. 


127 


it  seized,  instead,  upon  a  large  ewer  of  salubrious  and 
pure  water. 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  the  task  of  sobriety  was  not  yet 
become  easy,  and  that,  if  it  had  the  recommendation  of 
the  intellectual  portion  of  the  party  who  had  resolved  upon 
it,  the  outward  man  yielded  a  reluctant  and  restive  com- 
pliance. But  honest  Wildrake  had  been  dreadfully 
frightened  at  the  course  proposed  to  him  by  Cromwell, 
and,  with  a  feeling  not  peculiar  to  the  Catholic  religion, 
had  formed  a  solemn  resolution  within  his  ow  n  mind,  that 
if  he  came  off  safe  and  with  honour  from  this  dangerous 
interview,  he  would  show  his  sense  of  Heaven's  favour, 
by  renouncing  some  of  the  sins  which  most  easily  beset 
him,  and  especially  that  of  intemperance,  to  which,  like 
many  of  his  wild  compeers,  he  was  too  much  addicted. 

This  resolution,  or  vow^,  was  partly  prudential  as  well 
as  religious,  for  it  occurred  to  him  as  very  possible,  that 
some  matters  of  a  difficult  and  delicate  nature  might  be 
thrown  into  his  hands  at  the  present  emergency,  during 
the  conduct  of  which  it  would  be  fitting  for  him  to  act  by 
some  better  oracle  than  that  of  the  bottle,  celebrated  by 
Rabelais.  In  full  compliance  with  this  prudent  deter- 
mination, he  touched  neither  the  ale  nor  the  brandy  which 
was  placed  before  him,  and  declined  peremptorily  the 
sack  with  which  his  friend  would  have  garnished  the 
board.  Nevertheless,  just  as  the  boy  removed  the  tren- 
chers and  napkins,  together  with  the  large  black  jack 
which  we  have  already  mentioned,  and  was  one  or  two 
steps  on  his  way  to  the  door,  the  sinewy  arm  of  the  cav- 
alier, which  seemed  to  elongate  itself  on  purpose,  (as  it 
extended  far  beyond  the  folds  of  the  thread-bare  jacket,) 
arrested  the  progress  of  the  retiring  Ganymede,  and 
seizing  on  the  black  jack,  conveyed  it  to  the  lips,  which 
were  gently  breathing  forth  the  aspiration,  "  D — n — I 
mean.  Heaven  forgive  me — we  are  poor  creatures  of  clay 
— one  modest  sip  must  be  permitted  to  our  frailty." 

So  fnurmuring,  he  glued  the  huge  flagon  to  his  lips  ; 
and  as  the  head  was  slowly  and  gradually  inclined  back- 
wards, in  proportion  as  the  right  hand  elevated  the  bol- 


128  WOODSTOCK. 

torn  of  the  pitcher,  Everard  had  great  doubts  whether  the 
drinker  and  the  cup  were  Hkely  to  part  until  the  whole 
contents  of  the  latter  had  been  transferred  to  the  person 
of  the  former.  Roger  Wildrake  stinted,  however,  when 
by  a  moderate  computation  he  had  swallowed  at  one 
draught  about  a  quart  and  a  half.     . 

He  then  replaced  it  on  the  salver,  fetched  a  long  breath 
to  refresh  his  lungs,  bade  the  boy  get  him  gone  with  the 
rest  of  the  liquors,  in  a  tone  which  inferred  some  dread 
of  his  constancy,  and  then,  turning  to  his  friend  Everard, 
he  expatiated  in  praise  of  moderation,  observing,  that  the 
mouthful  which  he  had  just  taken  had  been  of  more  ser- 
vice to  him  than  if  he  had  remained  quaffing  healths  at 
table  for  four  hours  together. 

His  friend  made  no  reply,  but  could  not  help  being 
privately  of  opinion,  that  Wildrake's  temperance  had 
done  as  much  execution  on  the  tankard  in  his  single 
draught,  as  some  more  moderate  topers  might  have  effect- 
ed if  they  had  sat  sipping  for  an  evening.  But  the  sub- 
ject was  changed  by  the  entrance  of  the  landlord,  who 
came  to  announce  to  his  honour  Colonel  Everard,  that 
the  worshipful  Mayor  of  Woodstock,  with  the  Rev.  Mas- 
ter Holdenough,  were  come  to  wait  upon  him. 


CHAPTER  X, 


-"  Here  have  we  one  head 


Upon  two  bodies — your  two-headed  bullock 

Is  bill  an  ass  to  such  a  prodigy. 

These  two  have  but  one  meaning,  thought, .and  counsel  : 

And,  when  the  single  noddle  has  spoke  out, 

The  four  legs  scrape  assent  to  it."  Old  Play. 

In  tlie  goodly  form  of  the  honest  Mayor,  there  was  a 
bustling  mixture  of  importance  and  embarrassment,  like 
the  deportment  of  a  man  who  was  conscious  that  he  had 


WOODSTOCK.  129 

an  important  part  to  act,  if  he  could  but  exactly  discover 
what  that  part  was.  But  both  were  mingled  with  much 
pleasure  at  seeing  Everard,  and  he  frequently  repeated 
his  welcomes  and  all-hails  before  he  could  be  brought  to 
attend  to  what  that  gentleman  said  in  reply. 

"  Good  worthy  Colonel,  you  are  indeed  a  desirable 
sight  to  Woodstock  at  all  times,  being,  as  I  may  say, 
almost  our  townstnan,  as  you  have  dwell  so  much  and 
so  long  at  the  palace.  Truly,  the  matter  begins  almost 
to  pass  my  wit,  though  1  have  transacted  the  affairs  of 
this  borough  for  many  a  long  day  ;  and  you  are  come  to 
mv  assistance  like,  like " 

"  Tanquam  Dftus  ex  machina,  as  the  Ethnic  poet  hath 
it,"  said  Master  Holdenoush,  "  although  I  do  not  often 
quote  from  such  books. — Indeed,  Aiaster  Markham  Eve- 
rard— or  worthy  Colonel,  as  1  ought  rather  to  say — you 
are  sirnply  the  most  welcome  man  who  has  come  to 
Woodstock    since  the  days  of  old  King  Harry." 

*'  1  had  some  business  with  you,  my  good  friend," 
said  the  Colonel,  addressing  the  i\]ayor  ;  "  1  shall  be 
glad  if  it  should  so  happen  ^t  the  same  time,  that  1  may 
find  occasion  to  pleasure  you  or  your  worthy  pastor." 

"  No  question  you  can  do  so,  good  sir,"  interposed 
Master  Holdenough  ;  "  you  have  the  heart,  sir,  and  you 
have  the  hand  ;  and  we  are  much  in  want  of  good  coun- 
sel, and  that  from  a  man  of  action.  I  am  aware,  worthy 
Colonel,  that  you  and  your  worthy  father  have  ever 
borne  yourselves  in  these  turmoils  like  men  of  a  truly 
Christian  and  moderate  spirit,  striving  to  pour  oil  into 
the  wounds  of  the  land,  which  some  would  rub  with 
vitriol  and  pepper;  and  we  know  you  are  faithful  chil- 
dren of  the  church  we  have  reformed  from  its  papistical 
and  prelatical  tenets." 

"  ]My  good  and  reverend  friend,"  said  Everard,  "1 
respect  the  piety  and  learning  of  many  of  your  teachers  ; 
but  1  am  also  for  liberty  of  conscience  to  all  men.  I 
neither  side  with  sectaries,  nor  do  I  desire  to  see  them 
the  object  of  suppression  by  violence." 


130  WOODSTOCK. 

"  Sir,  sir,"  said  the  Presbyterian  hastily,  "  all  this  hath 
a  fair  sound  ;  but  1  would  you  siiould  tliink  what  a  fine 
country  and  church  we  are  like  to  have  oi'  it,  amidst  the 
errors,  blasphemies,  and  schisms,  which  are  daily  intro- 
duced into  the  church  and  kingdom  of  England,  so  that 
worthy  JMasler  Edwards,  in  his  Gangrena,  declareth,  that 
our  native  country  is  about  to  become  the  very  sink  and 
cess-pool  of  all  schisms,  heresies,  blasphemies,  and  con- 
fusions, as  the  army  of  Hannibal  was  said  to  be  the  refuse 
of  all  nations — Colluvies  omnium  gentivm. — Believe  rne, 
worthy  Colonel,  that  they  of  the  Honourable  House  view 
all  this  over  lightly,  and  with  the  winking  connivance  of 
old  Eli.  These  instruciers,  the  schismatics,  shoulder  the 
orthodox  ministers  out  of  their  pulpits,  thrust  themselves 
into  fainilies,  and  break  up  the  peace  thereof,  stealing 
away  men's  hearts  from  the  established  faith." 

"  My  good  Master  Holdenough,"  replied  the  Colonel, 
interrupting  tlie  zealous  preacher,  "  there  is  ground  of 
sorrow  for  all  these  unhappy  discords  ;  and  1  hold  with 
you,  that  tlie  fiery  spirits  of  the  present  time,  have  raised 
men's  minds  at  once  above  sober-minded  and  sincere 
religion,  and  above  decorum  and  common  sense.  But 
there  is  no  help  save  patience.  Enthusiasm  is  a  stream 
that  may  foam  off  in  its  own  time,  whereas  it  is  sure  to 
bear  down  every  barrier  which  is  directly  opposed  to  it. 
— But  what  are  these  schismatical  proceedings  to  our 
present  purpose  .^" 

*'  Why,  partly  this,  sir,"  said  Holdenough,  "  although 
perhaps  you  may  make  less  of  it  than  I  should  have 
thought  before  we  met. — I  was  myself — I,  Nehemiah 
Holdenough,  (he  added  consequentially,)  was  forcibly 
expelled  from  my  own  pulpit,  even  as  a  man  should  have 
been  thrust  out  of  his  own  house,  by  an  alien,  and  an  in- 
truder, a  wolf,  who  was  not  at  the  trouble  even  to  put 
on  sheep's  clothing,  but  came  in  his  native  wolfish  attire 
of  buff  and  bandalier,  and  held  forth  in  my  stead  to  the 
people,  who  are  to  me  as  a  flock  to  the  lawful  shepherd. 
It  is  too  true,  sir — Master  Mayor  saw  it,  and  strove  to 
take   such  order  to  prevent  it  as   man  might,  though," 


WOODSTOCK.  131 

turning  to  the  ^Mayor,  "  I  think  still  you  might  have  striven 
a  litl.e  more." 

"  Good  now,  good  Master  Hoklenongh,  do  not  let  us 
go  back  on  that  question,"  said  the  Mayor.  "  Guy  of 
Warwick,  or  Bevis  of  Hampton,  might  do  something 
with  tijis  gi  neraiion  ;  but  tiiily  thty  aje  too  many  and 
too  strong  lor  the  ]\iayor  of  ^\  oodbiock." 

*'  I  think  Master  Mayor  speaks  very  good  sense," 
said  the  Colonel  ;  "  it"  the  Independents  aie  not  allow- 
ed to  preach,  1  tear  me  they  will  not  fight  ; — and  then 
if  yon    were  to  have  another  rising  ol   cavalitrs  r" 

*'  Theie  are  worse  folks  may  rise  than  cavaliers,"  said 
Holdenough. 

*'  Mow,  sir  r"  replied  Colonel  Everard,  "  Let  me 
remind  )ou.  Master  Holdenough,  tlii.l  is  1,0  safe  lai;guage 
in  the  present  stiite  of  the  nation." 

'*  i  say,"  said  the  Presbyterian,  "  there  are  worse 
folks  n)ay  rise  than  cavalieis  ;  and  I  will  prove  uhatl 
say.  The  devil  is  worse  than  the  woist  cavi.Jier  tl  at  ever 
drunk  a  health,  or  swore  an  oath — and  the  devil  ijas  risen 
at  Woodstock  Lodge  !" 

"  Ay,  truly  hath  he,"  said  the  IMayor,  "  I  odily  and 
visibly,  in  figme  and  In  form — An  aulsd  time  we  live  in." 

*'  Gentlemen,  1  really  know  not  how  1  am  to  tnderstand 
you,"  said  Everard. 

*'  VViiy,  it  was  even  about  the  devil  we  c?ine  to  speak 
with  you,"  said  the  Mayor  ;  "but  lie  wciil.y  minister 
is  always  so  hot  upon  the  sectaries " 

"  Which  are  the  devil's  biats,  and  ne  ally  akin  to  him," 
said  Master  Holdenough.  "  But  true  it  is,  that  the 
growth  of  these  sects  has  brouehl  up  the  Evil  One  even 
upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  to  look  alter  his  o\^n  interest, 
where   he  finds  it  most  thriving." 

**  Master  Holdenough,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  if  you 
speak  fi2;uratively,  I  have  already  told  you  that  I  have 
neither  the  means  nor  the  skill  sufF.cient  to  temper  these 
religious  heats.  But  if  you  design  to  say  that  there  has 
been  an  actual  apparition  of  the  devil,  I  presume  to  think 


132  WOODSTOCK. 

that  you,  with  your  doctrine  and  your  learning,  would  be 
a  fitter  match  i'or  hiin  than  a  soldier  like  me." 

"  True,  sir ;  and  I  have  that  confidence  in  the  com- 
mission which  I  hold,  that  1  would  take  the  field  against 
the  foul  fiend  without  a  moment's  delay,"  said  Hold- 
enough  ;  "  but  the  place  in  whicl)  he  hath  of  late  appear- 
ed, being  Woodstock,  is  filled  witli  those  dangerous  and 
impious  persons,  of  wliom  1  have  been  but  now  com- 
plaining;  and  tliough  I  dare  venture  in  disputation  with 
their  Great  Master  himself,  yet  without  your  protection, 
most  worthy  Colonel,  1  see  not  that  1  may  with  prudence 
trust  myself  w^ith  the  tossing  and  goring  ox  Desborough, 
or  the  bloody  and  devouring  bear  Harrison,  or  the  cold 
and  poisonous  snake  Bletson — all  of  whom  are  now  at 
the  Lodge,  doing  license  and  taking  spoil  as  they  think 
meet  ;  and,  as  all  men  say,  the  devil  has  come  to  make 
a  fourth  with  them." 

*'  In  good  truth,  worthy  and  noble  sir,"  said  the  Mayor, 
"  it  is  even  as  Master  Holdenough  says — our  privileges 
are  declared  void,  our  cattle  seized  in  the  very  pastures. 
They  talk  of  cutting  dow^n  and  disparkins;  the  fair  Chase, 
which  has  been  so  long  the  pleasure  of  so  many  kings, 
and  making  Woodstock  of  as  little  note  as  any  paltry 
village.  1  assure  you  we  heard  of  your  arrival  with  joy, 
and  wondered  at  your  keeping  yourself  so  close  in  your 
lodgings.  We  know  no  one  save  your  father  or  you, 
that  are  like  to  stand  the  poor  burgesses'  friend  in  this 
extremity,  since  almost  all  the  gentry  around  are  malig- 
nants,  and  under  sequestration.  We  trust,  therefore, 
you  will  make  strong  intercession  in  our  behalf." 

"  Certainly,  Master  Mayor,"  said  the  Colonel,  who 
saw  himself  with  pleasure  anticipated  ;  "  it  was  my  very 
purpose  to  hav^e  interfered  in  this  matter  ;  and  I  did  but 
keep  myself  alone  until  1  should  be  furnished  with  some 
authority  from  the  Lord   General." 

"  Powers  from  the  Lord  General  I"  said  the  Mayor, 
thrusting  the  clergyman  with  his  elbow — "  Dost  thou 
hear   that  ? — What  cock  will  fight  that  cock  ?  We  shall 


MOOD  STOCK. 


133 


carry  it  now  over  their  necks,  and  Woodstock  shall  be 
brave  Woodstock  still  !" 

*'  Keep  thine  elbow  from  my  side,  friend,"  said  Hold- 
enouiih,  annoyed  by  the  action  which  the  INlayor  had 
suited  to  his  words  ;  "  and  may  the  Lord  send  that  Cicm- 
well  prove  not  as  sharp  to  the  people  of  England  as  thy 
bones  against  my  person  !  Yet  1  approve  that  we  should 
use  his  authority  to  stop  the  course  of  these  men's  pio- 
ceedings." 

**  Let  us  set  out,  then,"  said  Colonel  Everard  ;  "  and 
1  trust  we  shall  find  the  gentlemen  reasonable  and  ohe- 
dicr.t." 

The  functionaries,  laic  and  clerical,  assented  with 
much  joy  ;  and  the  Colonel  required  and  received  \^  ild- 
rake's  assistance  in  putting  on  his  cloak  and  rapier,  as  if 
he  had  been  the  dependant  whose  part  he  acted.  The 
cavalier  contrived,  howeter,  while  doing  him  these  men- 
ial offices,  to  give  his  friend  a  shrewd  pinch,  in  order  to 
maintain  the  footing  of  secret  equality  betv\ixt  them. 

The  Colonel  was  saluted,  as  they  passed  through  the 
streets,  by  many  of  the  anxious  inhabitants,  who  seemed 
to  consider  his  intervention  as  affording  the  only  chance 
of  saving  their  fine  Park,  and  the  rights  of  the  corpora- 
tion, as  well  as  of  individuals,  from  ruin  and  confiscation. 

As  they  entered  the  Pai  k,  the  Colonel  asked  his  com- 
panions, "  What  is  that  you  say  of  apparitions  being  seen 
amongst  them  ?" 

"  Why,  Colonel,"  said  the  clergyman,  "  you  know 
yourself  that  Woodstock  was  always  haunted  f" 

*'  I  have  lived  therein  many  a  day,"  said  the  Colonel ; 
"  and  I  know  that  I  never  saw  the  least  sign  of  it,  although 
idle  people  spoke  of  the  house  as  they  do  of  all  old  man- 
sions, and  gave  tlie  apartments  ghosts  and  spectres  to  fill 
up  the  places  of  the  deceased  great,  who  had  ever  dwelt 
there." 

"  Nay,  but,  good  Colonel,"  said  the  clergyman,  "  I 
trust  you  have  not  reached  the  prevailing  sin  of  the  times, 
and  become  indifferent  to  the  testimony  in  favour  of  ap- 

12       VOL.    I. 


134  WOODSTOCK. 

paritions,  which  appears  so  conclusive  to  all  but  atheists, 
and  advocates  for  witches  ?" 

"  1  would  not  absolutely  disbelieve  what  is  so  generally 
affirmed,"  said  the  Colonel;  "  but  my  temper  leads  me 
to  doubt  most  of  the  stories  wliich  1  have  heard  of  this 
sort,  and  my  own  experience  never  went  to  confirm  any 
of  them." 

"  Ay,  but  trust  me,"  said  Holdenough,  "  there  was 
always  a  demon  of  one  or  the  other  species  about  iliis 
Woo'lstock  Not  a  man  or  woman  in  the  town  but  lias 
heard  stories  of  apparitions  in  tlie  forest,  or  about  the  old 
castle.  Sometimes  it  is  a  puck  of  hounds  that  sweep 
along,  and  the  whoops  and  hollos  of  the  huntsman,  and 
the  winding  of  horns  and  galloping  of  horse,  which  is 
heard  as  if  first  more  distant,  and  then  close  around  you 
— and  then  anon  it  is  a  solitary  huntsman,  who  asks  if  you 
can  tell  him  which  way  the  stag  has  gone.  He  is  always 
dressed  in  green  ;  but  the  fashion  of  his  clothes  is  some 
five  hundred  years  old.  This  is  what  we  call  Denjon 
Meridianum — the  noonday  spectre." 

"  i\Jy  worthy  and  reverend  sir,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  I 
have  lived  at  Woodstock  many  seasons,  and  have  travers- 
ed the  Chase  at  all  hours.  Trust  me,  what  you  hear 
from  the  villagers  is  the  growth  of  their  idle  folly  and 
superstition." 

"  Colonel,"  replied  Holdenough,  "  a  negative  proves 
nothing.  What  signifies,  craving  your  pardon,  that  you 
have  not  seen  anything,  be  it  earthly,  or  be  it  of  the  other 
world,  to  detract  from  the  evidence  of  a  score  of  people 
who  have  ? — And,  besides,  there  is  the  Demon  Noctur- 
num — the  being  that  walketh  by  night — He  has  been 
amons;  these  Independents  and  schismatics  last  night. — 
Ay,  Colonel,  you  may  stare  ;  but  it  is  even  so — they 
may  try  whether  he  will  mend  their  gifts,  as  they  profane- 
ly call  them,  of  exposition  and  prayer.  No,  sir,  I  trow, 
to  master  vie  foul  fiend  there  goeth  some  competent 
knowled2;e  of  theology,  and  an  acquaintance  with  the 
humane  letters,  ay,  and  a  regular  clerical  education,  and 
clerical  calling." 


>VOODSTOCK.  135 

"I  do  not  in  the  least  doubt,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  the 
efficacy  of  your  qualifications  to  lay  the  devil  ;  but  still  I 
think  some  odd  mistake  lias  occasioned  this  confusion 
amongst  them,  if  there  has  any  such  in  reality  existed. 
Desl'orough  is  a  blockhead,  to  be  sure  ;  and  Harrison 
is  fanatic  enough  to  believe  anything.  But  there  is 
Bletson.  on  the  other  hand,  who  beheves  nothing. — What 
do  you  know  of  this  matter,  good  Master  Mayor  r" 

"In  sooth,  and  it  was  Master  Bletson  who  gave  the  first 
alarm,"  replied  the  magistrate,  "  or,  at  least,  the  first 
distinct  one.  You  see,  sir,  1  was  in  bed  with  my  wife, 
and  no  one  else  ;  and  I  was  as  fast  asleep  as  a  man  can 
desire  to  be  at  two  hours  after  midnight,  when,  behold 
you,  they  came  knocking  at  my  bed-room  door,  to  tell 
me  there  was  an  alarm  in  Woodstock,  and  that  the  bell 
of  the  lodge  was  ringing  at  that  dead  hour  of  the  night, 
as  hard  as  ever  it  rung  when  it  called  the  court  to  din- 
ner." 

*'  Well,  but  the  cause  of  this  alarm  ?"  said  the  Colonel. 

*' You  shall  hear,  worthy  Colonel,  you  shall  hear,"  an- 
swered the  Mayor,  waving  his  hand  with  dignity  ;  for  he 
was  one  of  those  persons  who  will  not  be  hurried  out 
of  their  own  pace.  "  So  Mrs.  Mayor  would  have  per- 
suaded me,  in  her  love  and  affection,  poor  wretch,  that 
to  rise  at  such  an  hour  out  of  n)y  warm  bed,  was  like  to 
bring  on  my  old  complaint  the  lumbago,  and  that  I  should 
send  the  people  to  Alderman  Dutton. — Alderman  Devil, 
Mrs.  Mayor,  said  I ; — 1  beg  your  reverence's  pardon  for 
using  such  a  phrase — Do  you  think  1  am  going  to  lie 
a-bed  when  the  town  is  on  fire,  and  the  cavaliers  up,  and 
the  devil  to  pay  f — 1  beg  pardon  again,  parson. — But, 
here  we  are  before  the  gate  of  the  Palace  j  will  it  not 
please  you  to  enter  ?" 

"  I  would  first  hear  the  end  of  your  story,"  said  the 
Colonel ;  "  that  is,  Master  Mayor,  if  it  happens  to  have 
an  end." 

"  Everything  hath  an  end,"  said  the  Mayor,  "  and  that 
which  we  call  a  pudding  hath  two. — Your  worship  will 
forgive  nie  for  being  facetions.     Where   was  I  ? — O,  I 


136  AVOODSTOCK. 

jumped  out  of  bed,  and  put  on  my  red  plush  breeches, 
with  the  blue  nether  stocks,  for  1  always  make  a  point  of 
being  dressed  suitable  to  my  dignity,  niglit  and  day, 
summer  or  winter.  Colonel  Everard  ;  and  J  took  the  con- 
stable along  with  me,  in  casj  tl  e  alarm  should  be  raised 
by  night-walkers  or  thieves,  -md  called  up  worthy  Master 
Holdeiiough  out  of  his  bed,  in  case  it  should  turn  out  to 
be  the  devil.  And  so  I  thougljt  I  was  provided  for  the 
worst — and  so  away  we  came  ;  and,  by  and  by,  the  sol- 
diers, who  came  to  the  town  with  Master  Tomkins,  who 
had  been  called  to  arms,  came  marching  down  to  Wood- 
stock as  fast  as  their  feet  would  carry  them  ;  so  1  gave 
our  people  the  sign  to  let  them  pass  us,  and  outmarch 
us,  as  it  were,  and  this  for  a  twofold  reason." 

"  I  w^ill  be  satisfied,"  interrupted  the  Colonel,  "  with 
one  good  reason.  You  desired  the  red-coats  should  have 
the  first  of  the  fray." 

"  True,  sir,  very  true  ; — and  also  that  they  should 
have  the  last  of  it,  in  respect  that  fighting  is  their  especial 
business.  However,  we  came  on  at  a  slow  pace,  as  men 
who  are  determined  to  do  their  duty  without  fear  or  fa- 
vour, when  suddenly  we  saw  something  white  haste  away 
up  the  avenue  towards  the  town,  when  six  of  our  con- 
stables and  assistants  fled  at  once,  as  conceiving  it  to  be 
an  apparition  called  the  White  Woman  of  Woodstock." 

"  Look  you  there.  Colonel,"  said  Master  Holdenough, 
"  I  told  you  there  were  demons  of  more  kinds  than  one, 
which  haunt  the  ancient  scenes  of  royal  debauchery  and 
cruelty." 

"  I  hope  you  stood  your  own  ground.  Master  Mayor  .^" 
said  the  Colonel. 

"  I — yes — most  assuredly — that  is,  I  did  not,  strictly 
speaking,  keep  my  ground  ;  but  the  town-clerk  and  I  re- 
treated— retreated.  Colonel,  and  without  confusion  or 
dishonour,  and  took  post  behind  worthy  Master  Hold- 
enough,  who,  with  the  spirit  of  a  lion,  threw  himself  in 
the  v/ay  of  the  supposed  spectre,  and  attacked  it  with 
such  a  siserary  of  Latin  as  might  have  scared  the  devil 
himself,  and  thereby  plainly  discovered   that  it  was  nq 


WOODSTOCK.  137 

devil  at  all,  nor  white  woman,  neither  woman  of  any  col- 
our, but  worshipful  Master  Bletson,  a  member  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  and  one  of  the  Commissioners  sent 
hither  upon  this  unhappy  sequestration  of  the  Wood, 
Chase,  and  Lodge  of  Woodstock." 

*'  And  this  was  all  you  saw  of  the  demon  r"  said  the 
Colonel. 

"  Truly,  yes,"  answered  the  Mayor  ;  "  and  1  had  no 
wish  to  see  more.  However,  we  conveyed  Master 
Bletson,  as  in  duty  bound,  back  to  the  Lodge,  and  he  was 
ever  maundering  by  the  way  how  that  he  met  a  party  of 
scarlet  devils  incarnate  marching  down  to  the  Lodge ;  but, 
to  my  poor  thinking,  it  must  have  been  the  independent 
dragoons  who  had  just  passed  us." 

*'  And  more  incarnate  devils  I  would  never  wish  to 
see,"  said  Wildrake,  who  could  remain  silent  no  longer. 
His  voice,  so  suddenly  heard,  showed  how  much  the 
Mayor's  nerves  were  still  alarmed,  for  he  started  and 
jumped  aside  with  an  alacrity  with  which  no  one  would  at 
first  si^ht  suppose  a  man  of  his  portly  dignity  to  be  capa- 
ble. Everard  imposed  silence  on  his  intrusive  attendant ; 
and,  desirous  to  hear  the  conclusion  of  this  strange  story, 
requested  the  xMayor  to  tell  him  how  the  matter  ended, 
and  whether  they  stopped  the  supposed  spectre. 

''  Truly,  v.orthy  sir,"  said  the  Mayor,  "  Master  Hold- 
enough  was  quite  venturous  upon  confronting,  as  it  were, 
the  devil,  and  compelling  him  to  appear  under  the  real 
form  of  Master  Joshua  Bletson,  member  of  Parhament 
for  the  borough  of  Liltlefaith." 

"In  sooth.  Master  Mayor,"  said  the  divine,  "  I  were 
strangely  ignorant  of  my  own  commission  and  immuni- 
ties, if  1  were  to  value  opposing  myself  to  Satan,  or  any 
Independent  in  his  likeness,  all  of  whom,  in  the  name  of 
Him  1  serve,  I  do  defy,  spit  at,  and  trample  under  my 
feet ;  and  because  blaster  Mayor  is  something  tedious, 
I  will  briefly  inform  your  honour  that  we  saw  little  of  the 
Enemy  that  nieht,  save  what  ^Master  Bletson  s;iid  in  the 
first   feeling  of  his  terrors,  and  save  what  we  might  col« 

12*       VOL.    I. 


138  WOODSTOCK. 

lect  from  the  disordered  appearance  of  the  honourable 
Colonel  Desborough  and  Major-general  Harrison." 

*'  And  what  plight  were  they  in,  I  pray  you  ?"  de- 
manded the  Colonel. 

"  Why,  worthy  sir,  every  one  might  see  with  half  an 
eye  that  they  had  been  engaged  in  a  fight  wherein  they 
had  not  been  honoured  with  victory,  seeing  that  General 
Harrison  was  stalking  up  and  down  the  parlour,  with  his 
drawn  sword  in  his  hand,  talking  to  himself,  his  doublet 
unbuttoned,  his  points  untrussed,  his  garters  loose,  and 
like  to  throw  him  down  as  he  now  and  then  trod  on  them, 
and  gaping  and  grinning  like  a  mad  player.  And  yonder 
sat  Desborough  with  a  dry  pottle  of  sack  before  him, 
which  he  had  just  emptied,  and  which,  though  the  ele- 
ment in  which  he  trusted,  had  not  restored  him  sense 
enough  to  speak,  or  courage  enough  to  look  over  his 
shoulder.  He  had  a  Bible  in  his  hand  forsooth,  as  if  it 
would  make  battle  against  the  Evil  One  ;  but  I  peered 
over  his  shoulder,  and,  alas  !  the  good  gentleman  held 
tlie  bottom  of  the  page  uppermost.  It  was  as  if  one  of 
your  musketeers,  noble  and  valued  sir,  were  to  present 
the  butt  of  his  piece  at  the  enemy  instead  of  the  muz- 
zle— ha,  ha,  ha  !  it  was  a  sight  to  judge  of  schismatics 
by  ;  both  in  point  of  head,  and  in  point  of  heart,  in  point 
of  skill  and  in  point  of  courage. — Oh  !  Colonel,  then  was 
the  time  to  see  the  true  character  of  an  unauthorized  pas- 
tor of  souls  over  those  unhappy  men,  who  leap  into  the 
fold  without  due  and  legal  authority,  and  will,  forsooth, 
preach,  teach,  and  exhort,  and  blasphemously  term  the 
doctrine  of  the  church  saltless  porridge  and  dry  chips." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  were  ready  to  meet  the  danger, 
reverend  sir  ;  but  I  would  fain  know  of  what  nature  it 
was,  and  from  whence  it  was  to  be  appreliended  ?" 

"  Was  it  for  me  to  make  such  inquiry  ?"  said  the 
clergyman  triumphantly.  "  Ts  it  for  a  brave  soldier  to 
uuinber  his  enemies  or  inquire  from  what  quarter  they  are 
to  come  ? — No,  sir,  I  was  there  with  match  lis^hted,  bullet 
in  my  mouth,  and  n)y  harquebuss  shouldered,  to  encoun- 
ter as  many  devils  as  hell  could  pour  in,  were  they  count- 


WOODSTOCK.  139 

less  as  motes  in  the  sunbeam,  and  came  from  all  points  of 
the  compass.  The  papists  talk  of  the  temptation  of  St, 
Antliony — pshaw!  let  them  double  all  the  myriads  which 
the  brain  of  a  crazy  Dutch  painter  hath  invented,  and  you 
will  find  a  poor  Presbyterian  divine — I  will  answer  for  one 
at  least, — who,  not  in  his  own  strength,  but  his  Master's, 
will  receive  the  assault  in  such  sort,  that  far  from  returning 
against  him  as  against  yonder  poor  hound,  day  after  day 
and  night  after  night,  he  will  at  once  pack  them  off  as 
with  a  vengeance  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  Assyria." 

"  Still,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  1  pray  to  know  whether 
you  saw  anything  upon  which  to  exercise  your  pious 
learning .'"' 

"  Saw  .^"  answered  the  divine  ;  "  no,  truly,  I  saw 
nothing,  nor  did  I  look  for  anything.  Thieves  will  not 
attack  well-armed  travellers,  nor  will  devils  or  evil  spirits 
come  against  one  who  bears  in  his  bosom  the  word  of 
truth,  in  the  very  language  in  which  it  was  first  dictated. 
No,  sir,  they  shun  a  divine  who  can  understand  the  holy 
text,  as  a  crow  is  said  to  keep  wide  of  a  gun  loaded 
with  hail-shot." 

They  had  walked  a  little  way  back  upon  their  road, 
to  give  time  for  this  conversation  ;  and  the  Colonel,  per- 
ceiving it  was  about  to  lead  to  no  satisfactory  explanation 
of  the  real  cause  of  alarm  on  the  preceding  night,  turned 
round,  and  observing  it  was  time  they  should  go  to  the 
Lodge,  began  to  move  in  that  direction  with  his  three 
companions. 

It  was  now  becoming  dark,  and  the  towers  of  Wood- 
stock arose  high  above  the  umbrageous  shroud  which  the 
forest  spread  around  the  ancient  and  venerable  mansion. 
From  one  of  the  highest  turrets,  which  could  still  be  dis- 
tinguished as  it  rose  against  the  clear  blue  sky,  there 
gleamed  a  light  like  that  of  a  candle  within  the  building. 
The  IMnyor  slept  short,  and  catching  fast  hold  of  the  di- 
vine, and  then  of  Colonel  Everard,  exclaimed,  in  a  trem- 
bling and  hasty,  but  suppressed  tone,  "  Do  you  see  yon- 
der light  r 


140  WOODSTOCK. 

"  Ay,  marry  do  T,"  said  Colonel  Everard  ;  "  and  what 
does  that  matter  ? — a  light  in  a  garret-room  of  such  an 
old  mansion  as  Woodstock  is  no  subject  for  wonder,  I 
trow." 

*'  But  a  light  from  Rosamond's  Tower  is  surely  so," 
said  the  Mayor. 

*'  True,"  said  the  Colonel,  something  surprised,  when, 
after  a  careful  examination,  he  satisfied  himself  that  the 
worthy  magistrate's  conjecture  was  real.  "  That  is  in- 
deed Rosamond's  Tower  ;  and  as  the  drawbridge  by 
which  it  was  accessible  has  been  destroyed  for  centuries, 
it  is  hard  to  say  what  chance  could  have  lighted  a  lamp  in 
such  an  inaccessible  place." 

"  That  light  burns  with  no  earthly  fuel,"  said  the 
Mayor  ;  "  neither  from  whale  nor  olive,  nor  bees-wax, 
nor  mutton-suet  either.  I  dealt  in  these  commodities, 
Colonel,  before  1  went  into  my  preset  line  ;  and  1  can 
assure  you  I  could  distinguish  the  sort  of  light  they  give, 
one  from  another,  at  a  greater  distance  than  yonder 
turret — Look  you,  that  is  no  earthly  flame. — See  you  not 
something  blue  and  reddish  upon  the  edges  ? — that  bodes 
full  well  where  it  comes  from. — Colonel,  in  my  opinion  we 
had  better  go  back  to  sup  at  the  town,  and  leave  the  Devil 
and  the  red-coats  to  settle  their  matters  together  to-night ; 
and  then  when  we  come  back  the  next  morning,  w^e  will 
have  a  pull  with  the  party  that  chances  to  keep  a-field." 

"You  will  do  as  you  please.  Master  Mayor,"  said 
Everard,  "  but  my  duty  requires  me  that  I  should  see 
the  Commissioners  to-night." 

"  And  mine  requires  me  to  see  the  foul  Fiend,"  said 
Master  Holdenough,  "if  he  dare  make  himself  visible 
to  me.  I  wonder  not  that,  knowing  who  is  approaching, 
he  betakes  himself  to  the  very  citatlel,  the  inner  and  the 
last  defences  of  this  ancient  and  haunted  mansion.  He 
is  dainty,  I  warrant  you,  and  must  dwell  where  is  a  relish 
of  luxury  and  murder  about  the  walls  of  his  chamber. 
In  yonder  turret  sinned  Rosamond,  and  in  yonder  turret 
she  suffered  ;  and  there  she  sits,  or  more  likely,  the 
Enemy  in  her  shape,  asT  have  heard  true  men  of  Wood- 


WOODSTOCK.  141 

Stock  tell. — 1  wait  on  you,  good  Colonel — Master  Mayor 
will  do  as  he  pleases.  The  stiono  man  hath  ibitilied 
himself  in  his  dwelling-house,  but,  lo,  there  comes  anoth- 
er stronger  than  he." 

"  For  me,"  said  the  Mayor,  "  who  am  as  unlearned 
as  I  am  unwarlike.  1  will  not  engage  either  with  the  Pow- 
ers of  the  Earth,  or  the  Prince  of  the  Powers  of  the  Air, 
and  I  will  go  back  to  Woodstock  ; — and  hark  ye,  good 
fellow,"  slapping  Wildrake  on  the  shoulder,  "J  will  be- 
stow on  thee  a  shilling  wet  and  a  shilling  dry  if  thou  wilt 
go  with  me." 

"  Gadzookers,  Master  iMayor,"  said  Wildrake,  neither 
flattered  by  the  magistrate's  familiarity  of  address,  nor 
captivated  by  his  munificence — "  1  wonder  who  the  devil 
made  you  and  me  fellows  f — and,  besides,  do  }  ou  think 
I  would  go  back  to  Woodstock  with  your  worshipiul  cod's- 
head,  when,  by  good  management,  I  may  get  a  peep  of 
fair  Rosamond,  and  see  whether  she  was  that  choice  and 
incomparable  piece  of  ware  which  the  world  has  been 
told  of  by  rhymers  and  ballad-makers  t'^ 

"  Speak  less  lightly  and  wantonly,  fjiend,"  said  the 
divine  ;  "  we  are  to  resist  the  Devil  that  he  may  flee  from 
us,  and  not  to  tamper  with  him,  or  enter  into  his  coun- 
sels, or  traffic  with  the  merchandize  of  his  great  Vanity 
Fair." 

"  Mind  what  the  good  man  says,  Wildrake,"  said  the 
Colonel,  "  and  take  heed  anotlier  time  how  thou  dost 
suffer  thy  wit  to  outrun  discretion." 

"  I  am  beholden  to  the  reverend  gentleman  for  his' 
advice,"  answered  W^ildrake,  upon  whose  tongue  it  was 
difiicult  to  impose  any  curb  whatever,  even  when  his  own 
safety  rendered  it  most  desirable.  "  But,  gadzookers, 
let  him  have  had  what  experience  he  will  in  flighting  with 
the  Devil,  he  never  saw  one  so  black  as  I  had  a  tussle  with 
— not  a  hundred  years  ago." 

"  How,  friend,"  said  the  clergyman,  who  understood 
every  thing  literally  when  apparitions  were  mentioned, 
*'  have  you  had  so  late  a  visitation  of  Satan  ?  Believe 
me,  then,  that  I  wonder  why  thou  darest  to  entertain  his 


142  WOODSTOCK. 

name  so  often  and  so  lightly,  as  T  see  thou  dost  use  it  in 
thy  ordinary  discourse.  But  when  and  where  didst  thou 
see  the  Evil  One  i^" 

Everard  hastily  interposed,  lest  by  something  yet  more 
strongly  alluding  to  Cromwell,  his  imprudent  squire 
should,  in  mere  wantonness,  betray  his  interview  with  the 
General.  "  The  young  man  raves,"  he  said,  "  of  a 
dream  which  he  had  the  other  night,  when  he  and  I  slept 
together  in  Victor  Lee's  chamber,  belonging  to  the  Ran- 
ger's apartments  at  the  Lodge." 

"  Thanks  for  help  at  a  pinch,  good  patron,"  said  Wild- 
rake,  whispering  into  Everard's  ear,  who  in  vain  endeav- 
oured to  shake  him  off, — "  a  fib  never  failed  a  fanatic." 

"  You,  also,  spoke  something  too  lightly  of  these  mat- 
ters, considering  the  work  which  we  have  in  hand,  worthy 
Colonel,"  said  the  Presbyterian  divine.  "  Believe  me, 
the  young  man,  thy  servant,  was  more  like  to  see  visions 
than  to  dream  merely  idle  dreams  in  that  apartment ;  for 
1  have  always  heard,  that,  next  to  Rosamond's  Tower, 
in  which,  as  I  said,  she  played  the  wanton,  and  was 
afterwards  poisoned  by  Queen  Eleanor,  Victor  Lee's 
chamber  was  the  place  in  the  Lodge  of  Woodstock  more 
peculiarly  the  haunt  of  evil  spirits.  I  pray  you,  young 
man,  tell  me  this  dream  or  vision  of  yours." 

"  With  all  my  heart,  sir,"  said  Wildrake — then  addres- 
sing his  patron,  who  began  to  interfere,  he  said,  "Tush, 
sir,  you  have  had  the  discourse  for  an  hour,  and  why 
should  not  1  hold  forth  in  my  turn  ^  By  this  darkness,  if 
you  keep  me  silent  any  longer  I  will  turn  Independent 
preacher,  and  stand  up  in  your  despite  for  the  freedom 
of  private  judgment. — And  so, reverend  sir,  1  was  dream- 
ing of  a  carnal  divertisement  called  a  bull-baiting  ;  and 
methought  there  were  venturing  dogs  at  head,  as  merrily 
as  e'er  1  saw  them  at  Tutbury-BuU -running  ;  and  me- 
thought 1  heard  some  one  say,  there  was  the  Devil  come 
to  have  a  sight  of  the  bull-ring.  Well,  I  thought  that, 
gadswoons,  I  would  have  a  peep  at  his  Infernal  Majesty. 
So  I  looked,  and  there  was  a  butcher  in  a  greasy  wool- 
len, with  his  steel  by  his  side  ;  but  he  was  none  of  the 


>VOOD  STOCK. 


143 


Devil.  And  there  was  a  drunken  cavalier  with  his  mouth 
full  of  oaths,  and  his  stomach  full  of  emptiness,  and  a 
gold  laced  waistcoat  in  a  very  dilapidated  condition,  and 
a  ragged  hat  with  a  piece  of  feather  in  it  ;  and  he  was 
none  of  the  Devil  neither.  And  there  was  a  miller,  his 
hands  dusty  with  meal,  and  every  atom  of  it  stolen  :  and 
there  was  a  vintner,  his  green  apron  stained  with  wine, 
and  every  drop  of  it  sophisticated  ;  but  neither  was  the 
old  gentleman  1  looked  for  to  be  detected  among  those 
artizans  of  iniquity.  At  length,  sir,  1  saw  a  grave  person 
with  cropped  hair,  a  pair  of  longish  and  projecting  ears, 
a  band  as  broad  as  a  slobbering  bib  under  his  chin,  a 
brown  coat  surjnounted  by  a  Geneva  cloak,  and  1  had 
old  Nicliolas  at  once  in  his  genuine  paraphernalia,  by — ." 

"  Shame,  shame  !"  said  Colonel  Everard.  *'  What  ! 
behave  thus  to  an  old  gentleman  and  a  divine  !" 

"Nay,  Jet  him  proceed,"  said  the  minister,  with  per- 
fect equanimity,  "  if  thy  friend  or  secretary  is  gibing,  I 
must  liave  less  patience  than  becomes  my  profession,  if  I 
could  not  bear  an  idle  jest,  and  forgive  him  who  makes 
it.  Or,  if  on  the  other  hand,  the  Enemy  has  really  pre- 
sented himself  to  the  young  man  in  such  a  guise  as  he 
intimates,  wherefore  should  we  be  surprised  that  he,  who 
can  take  upon  him  the  form  of  an  angel  of  light,  should 
be  able  to  assmne  that  of  a  fra  1  and  peccable  mortal, 
whose  spiritual  calling  and  profession  ought,  indeed,  to 
induce  him  to  make  his  life  an  example  to  others;  but 
whose  conduct,  nevertheless,  such  is  the  imperfection  of 
our  unassisted  nature,  sometimes  rather  presents  us  with 
a  warning  of  what  we  should  shun  .^" 

"  Now,  by  the  mass,  honest  dominie — I  mean  reverend 
sir — I  crave  you  a  thousand  pnrdons,"  said  VVildrake, 
penetrated  by  the  quietness  and  patience  of  the  presby- 
ter's rebuke.  "  By  St.  George,  if  quiet  patience  will  do 
it,  thou  art  fit  to  play  a  game  at  foils  with  the  Devil  him- 
self, and  I  would  be  contented  to  hold  stakes." 

As  he  concluded  an  apolo2:y,  which  was  certainly  not 
iMicalled  for,  and  seemed  to  be  received  in  perfectly  good 
part,  they  approached   so  close  to.  the  exterior  door  of 


144 


\V(OD  STOCK. 


the  Lodge,  that  they  were  challenged  with  the  emphatic 
Stand,  by  a  sentinel  who  mounted  guard  there.  Colonel 
Everard  replied,  ./?  friend  ;  and  the  sentinel  repeating 
his  command,  "  Stand,  friend,"  proceeded  to  call  the 
corporal  of  the  guard.  The  corporal  came  forth,  and  at 
the  same  time  turned  out  his  guard.  Colonel  Everard 
gave  his  name  and  designation,  as  well  as  those  of  his 
companions,  on  which  the  corporal  said,  "  he  doubted 
not  there  would  be  orders  for  his  instant  admission  ;  but, 
in  the  first  place,  Mr.  Tomkins  must  be  consulted,  that 
he  might  learn  their  honours'  mind." 

"  How,  sir  !"  said  the  Colonel,  "  do  you,  knowing 
who  I  am,  presume  to  keep  me  on  the  outside  of  your 
post  ?" 

"  Not,  if  your  honour  pleases  to  enter,"  said  the  cor- 
poral, ^'  and  undertakes  to  be  my  warranty  ;  but  such 
are  the  orders  of  my  post." 

"  Nay,  then,  do  your  duty,"  said  the  Colonel  ;  ''  but 
are  the  cavaliers  up,  or  what  is  the  matter,  that  you  keep 
so  close  and  strict  a  watch  ?" 

The  fellow  gave  no  distinct  answer,  but  muttered  be- 
tween his  moustaches  something  about  the  Enemy,  and 
the  roaring  Lion  who  goeth  about  seeking  what  he  may 
devour.  Presently  afterwards  Tomkins  appeared,  fol- 
lowed by  two  servants  bearing  lights  in  great  standing 
brass  candlesticks.  They  marched  before  Colonel 
Everard  and  his  party,  keeping  as  close  to  each  other  as 
two  cloves  of  the  same  orange,  and  starting  from  time  to 
time,  and  shouldering  as  they  passed  through  sundry 
intricate  passages,  they  led  up  a  large  and  ample  wooden 
stair-case,  the  banisters,  rail,  and  lining  of  which  were 
executed  in  black  oak,  and  finally  into  a  long  saloon,  or 
parlour,  where  there  was  a  prodigious  fire  and  about 
twelve  candles  of  the  largest  size  distributed  in  sconces 
against  the  wall.  There  were  seated  the  Commissioners, 
who  now  held  in  their  power  the  ancient  mansion  and 
royal  domain  of  Woodstock. 


WOODSTOCK.  146 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  bloody  bear,  an  independent  beast, 
Unlick'd  lo  fonns,  in  gn-ans  lie  liad  express'd— 

^exl  him  the  buffoon  ape,  as  aiheists  use, 
Mimick'd  all  secis,  and  had  his  own  to  choose. 

Hind  and  Panther. 

The  Strong  light  in  the  parlour  which  we  have  de- 
scribed, served  to  enable  Eveiard  easily  to  recognize  his 
acquaintances,  Desborongh,  Harrison,  and  Blfclson,\\ho 
had  assembled  theujselvLS  round  an  oak  table  of  iaige 
dimensions,  placed  near  the  blazing  chinmey,  on  uhich 
were  arranged  wine,  and  ale,  and  materials  lor  snioking, 
then  the  general  indulgence  of  the  laue.  There  was  a 
species  of  moveable  cupboard  set  betwixt  the  table  and 
the  door,  calculated  originally  fcr  a  display  of  plate  upon 
grand  occasions,  but  at  present  only  used  as  a  screen  ; 
whirli  purpose  it  served  so  effectually,  that  ere  he  had 
coasted  around  it,  Everard  heard  the  following  fragment 
of  what  Desborongh  was  saying,  in  his  coarse  strong 
voice  : — "  Sent  him  to  share  with  us,  I'se  v\anaut  ye — 
It  was  always  his  Excellency  n)y  brother-in-law's  uay — 
if  he  made  a  treat  for  five  friends,  he  would  invite  njore 
than  the  table  could  hold — 1  have  known  iiim  ask  three 
men  lo  eat  two  eggs." 

"  Hush,  hush,"  said  Bletson  ;  and  the  servants  mak- 
ing their  appearance  fiotn  behind  the  tall  cup-board,  an- 
nounced Colonel  Everard.  It  may  not  be  unpleasing  to 
the  reader  to  have  a  description  of  the  party  into  which 
he  now  entered. 

Desborongh  was  a  stout,  bull-necked  man,  of  middle 
size,  with  heavy  vulgar  features,  grizzled  bushy  eye- 
brows, and  wall-eyes.     The  flourish  of  his  poweilul  rela- 

13       VOL.    I. 


146  WOODSTOCK. 

tive's  fortunes,  had  burst  forth  in  the  finery  of  his  dress, 
which  was  much  more  ornauiental  than  was  usual  among 
the  roundlieads.  There  was  embroidery  on  his  cloak, 
and  lace  upon  his  band  ;  his  liat  displayed  a  feather  with 
a  golden  clasp,  and  all  his  habiliments  were  those  of  a 
cavalier,  or  follower  of  the  court,  rather  than  the  })lain 
dress  of  a  parliamentarian  officer.  Bui,  Heaven  knows, 
thci-e  was  little  of  court- like  grace  or  dignity  in  the  per- 
son or  demeanour  of  the  individual,  who  became  his  fine 
suit  as  the  hog  on  the  sign-post  does  his  gilded  armour. 
It  was  not  that  he  was  p  )sitively  deformed,  or  misshaped, 
for,  taken  in  detail,  the  figure  was  well  enough.  But 
his  limbs  seemed  to  act  upon  different  and  contradictory 
principles.  They  were  not,  as  the  play  says,  in  a  con- 
catenation accordingly  ; — the  right  hand  moved  as  il"  it 
were  upon  bad  terms  with  the  left,  and  the  legs  showed 
an  inclination  to  foot  it  in  different  and  opposite  direc- 
tions. In  short,  to  use  an  extravagant  comparison,  the 
members  of  Colonel  Desborou2;h  seemed  rather  to  re- 
semble the  disputatious  representatives  of  a  federative 
congress,  than  the  well-oidered  union  of  the  orders  oi"  the 
state,  in  a  firm  and  well-compacted  monaichy,  wiiere. 
each  holds  his  own  place,  and  all  obey  the  dictates  of  a 
common  head. 

General  Harrison,  the  second  of  the  Commissioners, 
was  a  tall,  thin,  middle-aged  man,  who  had  risen  into  his 
high  situation  in  the  army,  and  hi^  intimacy  with  Crotn- 
well,  by  his  dauntless  courage  in  the  field,  and  the  pop- 
ularity lie  had  acquired  by  his  exalted  enthusiasm 
amongst  the  military  saints,  secretaries,  and  Independ- 
ents, who  composed  the  strength  of  the  existing  army. 
Harrison  was  of  mean  extraction,  and  bred  up  to  his  fatli- 
er's  employment  of  a  butcher.  Nevertheless,  his  appear- 
ance, though  coarse,  was  not  vulgar,  like  that  of  Desbo- 
rough,  who  had  so  much  the  advantage  of  him  in  birth 
and  education.  He  had,  as  we  have  said,  a  masculine 
height  and  strength  of  figure,  was  well  made,  and  in  his 
manner  announced  a  rough  military  character,  which 
might  be  feared,  but  could  not  be  the  object  of  contempt 


WOODSTOCK.  147 

or  ridicule.  His  aquiline  nose  and  dark  black  eyes  set 
off  lo  so. lie  advantage  a  countenance  otherwise  irregular, 
and  the  wild  enthusiasm  that  sometimes  sparkled  in  them 
as  he  dilated  on  his  opinions  to  others,  and  olten  seemed 
to  shuuber  under  his  long  dark  eye-lashes  as  he  mused 
upon  tiiem  himself,  gave  something  strikingly  wild,  and 
even  noble,  lo  liis  aspect.  He  was  one  of  the  chief 
leaders  of  those  who  were  called  Fifth-INJonarchy  men, 
who,  going  even  beyond  the  usual  fanaticism  of  the  age, 
presumptuously  interpreted  the  Book  of  the  Revelations 
after  their  own  fancies,  considered  that  the  second  Ad- 
vent of  the  INIessiah,  and  the  Millenium,  or  reiiin  of  the 
Saints  ujion  earth,  was  close  at  hand,  and  that  they  them- 
selves, illuminated,  as  they  believed,  with  the  power  of 
foreseeing  these  approaching  events,  were  the  choice  in- 
struments for  the  establishment  of  the  New  Reign,  or 
Fifth  iMonarchy,  as  it  was  called,  and  were  fated  also  to 
win  its  honours,  whether  celestial  or  terrestrial. 

When  this  spirit  of  entliusiasm  which  operated  like  a 
partial  insanity,  was  not  immediately  afiecting  Harrison's 
mind,  he  was  a  shrewd  worldly  man,  and  a  good  soldier ; 
one  who  missed  no  opportunity  of  mending  his  fortune, 
and  who,  in  expecting  the  exaltation  of  the  Fifih  i\ion- 
archy,  was,  in  the  meanwhile,  a  ready  instrument  for  the 
establishment  of  the  Lord  General's  sujiremacy.  Wheth- 
er it  was  owing  to  his  early  occupation,  and  habits  of 
indifference  to  pain  or  bloodshed,  to  natural  disposition 
and  want  of  feeling,  or,  finally,  to  the  awakened  charac- 
ter of  his  enthusiasm,  which  made  bin)  look  upon  those 
who  opposed  him,  as  opprsing  the  Divine  will,  and  there- 
fore meriting  no  favour  or  mercy,  is  not  easy  to  say. 
But  all  agreed,  that  after  a  victory,  or  the  successful 
storm  of  a  town,  Harrison  was  one  of  the  most  cruel  and 
pitiless  men  in  Cromwell's  army  ;  always  urging  some 
misapplied  text  to  authorize  the  continued  execution  of 
the  fugitives,  and  sometimes  even  putting  to  death  those 
who  had  surrendered  jhemselvcs  prisoners.  It  was  said, 
that  at  times  the  recollection  of  some  of  those  cruelties' 


148 


WOODSTOCK. 


troubled  his  conscience,  and  disturbed  the  dreams  of 
beatification  in  which  his  imagination  indulged. 

When  Everard  entered  the  apartment,  this  true  repre- 
sentative of  the  fanatical  soldiers  of  the  day,  who  filled 
those  ranks  and  regiments  which  Cromwell  had  political- 
ly kept  on  foot,  while  he  piocured  the  reduction  of  those 
in  which  the  Presbyterian  interest  predon)inated,  was 
seated  a  little  apart  from  the  others,  his  legs  crossed, 
and  stretched  out  at  length  towards  the  fire,  his  head 
resting  on  his  elbow,  and  turned  upwards,  as  if  studying, 
with  the  most  profound  gravity,  the  half-seen  carving  of 
the  Gothic  roof. 

Bletson  remains  to  be  mentioned,  who,  in  person  and 
figure,  was  diametrically  different  from  the  other  two. 
There  was  neither  foppery  nor  slovenliness  in  his  exterior, 
nor  had  he  any  marks  of  military  service  or  rank  about 
his  person.  A  small  walking  rapier  seemed  merely 
worn  as  a  badge  of  his  rank  as  a  gentleman,  without  his 
hand  having  the  least  purpose  of  becoming  acquainted 
with  the  hilt,  or  his  eye  with  the  blade.  His  counte- 
nance was  thin  and  acute,  marked  with  lines  which  thought 
rather  than  age  had  traced  upon  it ;  and  a  habitual  sneer 
on  his  countenance,  even  when  he  least  wished  to  ex- 
press contempt  on  his  features,  seemed  to  assure  the  per- 
son addressed,  that  in  Bletson  he  conversed  with  a  per- 
son of  intellect  far  superior  to  his  own.  This  was  a 
triumph  of  intellect  only,  for  on  all  occasions  of  difference 
respecting  speculative  opinions,  and  indeed  on  all  con- 
troversies whatsoever,  Bletson  avoided  the  ultimate  I'atio 
of  blows  and  knocks. 

Yet  this  peaceful  gentleman  had  found  himself  obliged 
to  serve  personally  in  the  Parliamentary  army  at  the 
commencement  of  the  Civil  War,  till  happening  unluck- 
ily to  come  in  contact  with  the  fiery  Prince  Rupert,  his 
retreat  was  judged  so  precipitate,  that  it  required  all  the 
shelter  his  friends  could  afford,  to  keep  him  free  of  an 
impeachnient  or  a  court-martial.  But  as  Bletson  spoke 
■well,  and  with  great  effect,  in  the  House  of  Commons, 
which  was  his  natural   sphere  and   was  on  that  account 


>VOODSTOCK.  149 

high  in  the  estimation  of  his  party,  his  behaviour  at  Edge- 
hill  was  passed  over,  and  he  continued  to  take  an  active 
share  in  all  the  political  events  of  that  bustling  period, 
though   he  faced   not  again  the  actual  front  of  war. 

Bfelson's  theoretical  principles  of  poHtics  had  long 
inclined  him  to  espouse  the  opinions  of  Harrison  and 
others,  who  adopted  the  visionary  idea  of  establishing  a 
pure  democralical  republic  in  so  extensive  a  country  as 
Britain.  This  was  a  rash  theory,  where  there  is  such 
an  inhiiite  difference  betwixt  ranks,  habits,  education,  and 
morals — where  there  is  such  an  injmense  disproportion 
betwixt  the  wealth  of  individuals — and  where  a  large 
proportion  of  the  inhabitants  consists  of  the  inferior  classes 
of  the  large  towns  and  manufacturing  districts — men 
unfitted  to  bear  that  share  in  the  direction  of  a  state,  which 
must  be  exercised  by  the  members  of  a  republic  in  the 
proper  sense  of  the  word.  Accordingly,  so  soon  as  the 
experiment  was  made,  it  became  obvious  that  no  such 
form  of  government  could  be  adopted  with  the  smallest 
chance  of  stability  ;  and  the  question  came  only  to  be, 
whether  the  remnant,  or,  as  it  was  vulgarly  called,  the 
Rump  of  the  Long  Parliament,  now  reduced  by  the 
seclusion  of  so  many  of  the  members  to  a  few  scores  of 
persons,  should  continue,  in  spite  of  their  unpopidarity, 
to  rule  the  affairs  of  Biitain  ?  Whether  thty  should 
cast  all  loose  by  dissolving  themselves,  and  issuing  writs 
to  convoke  a  new  Parliament,  the  composition  of  which 
no  one  could  answer  for,  any  more  than  lor  the  measures 
they  might  take  when  assembled  f  Or  lastly,  whether 
Cromwell,  as  actually  happened,  was  not  to  throw  the 
sword  into  the  balance,  and  boldly  possess  himself  of 
that  power  which  the  remnant  of  ilie  Parliament  were 
unable  to  hold,  and   yet  ah  aid  to  resinn  ? 

Such  being  the  state  of  pr.rties,  the  Council  of  State, 
in  distributing  the  good  tl.'ires  in  their  gift,  endeavoured 
to  soothe  and  gratify  the  army,  as  a  f)eogar  fiijigs  crusts 
to  a  growling  n:asiiff.  In  this  view  Deshorough  had 
been  creot<  d  d  Con.n'issioiier  in  the  \^  oodstock  matter 

13*       VOL.    I. 


150 


WOODSTOCK. 


to  gratify  Cromwell,  Harrison  to  soothe  the  fierce  Fifth- 
Moiiarcliy  men,  and  Bletson  as  a  sincere  republican,  and 
one  ot  their  own  leaven. 

But  if  they  supposed  Bletson  had  the  least  intention 
of  becoming  a  martyr  to  his  republicanism,  or  submitting 
to  any  serious  loss  on  account  of  it,  they  much  mistook 
the  man.  He  entertained  their  principles  sincerely,  and 
not  the  less  tliat  they  weie  found  iinpracticable  ;  for  the 
miscarriage  of  his  experiment  no  more  converts  the  po- 
litical speculator,  than  the  explosion  of  a  retort  unde- 
ceives an  alchemist.  But  Bletson  was  quite  prepared  to 
submit  to  Cromwell,  or  any  one  else  who  might  be 
possessed  of  the  actual  authority.  He  was  a  ready  sub- 
ject in  practice  to  the  powers  existing,  and  made  little 
difference  betwixt  various  kinds  of  goverimient,  holding 
in  theory  all  to  be  nearly  equal  in  imperfection,  as  soon 
as  they  diverged  from  the  model  of  Harrington's  Oceana. 
Cromwell  had  already  been  tampering  with  him,  like 
wax  between  his  finger  and  thumb,  and  which  he  was 
ready  shortly  to  seal  with,  smiling  at  the  same  time  to 
himself  when  he  beheld  the  Council  of  State  giving  re- 
wards to  Bletson  as  their  faithful  adherent,  while  he  him- 
self was  secure  of  his  allegiance,  how  soon  soever  the 
expected    change  of  government  should  take  place. 

But  Bletson  was  still  more  attached  to  his  metaphysical 
than  his  political  creed,  and  carried  his  doctrines  of  the 
perfectibility  of  mankind  as  far  as  he  did  those  respecting 
the  conceivable  perfection  of  a  model  of  government ; 
and  as  in  the  one  case  he  declared  against  all  power 
which  did  not  emanate  from  the  people  themselves,  so^ 
in  his  moral  speculations,  he  was  unwilling  to  refer  any  of 
the  phenomena  of  nature  to  a  final  cause.  When  push- 
ed, indeed,  very  hard,  Bletson  was  compelled  to  mutter 
some  inarticulate  and  unintelligible  doctrines  concerning 
an  Animus  Mundi,  or  Creative  Power  in  the  works  of 
Nature,  by  which  she  originally  called  into  existence,  and 
still  continues  to  preserve,  her  works.  To  this  power, 
he  said,  some  of  the  purest  metaphysicians  rendered  a 
certain  degree  of  homage  ;  nor  was  he  himself  inchned 


AVOODSTOCK. 


151 


absolutely  to  censure  those,  who,  by  institution  of  holi- 
days, choral  dances,  songs,  and  harmless  feasts  and  liba- 
tions, might  be  disposed  to  celebrate  the  great  goddess 
Nature  ;  at  least  dancing,  singing,  feasting,  and  sporting, 
being  comfortable  things  to  both  young  and  old,  they  might 
as  well  sport,  dance,  and  feast,  in  honour  of  such  appoint- 
ed hoHdays,  as  under  any  other  pretext.  But  then  this 
moderate  show  of  religion  was  to  be  practised  under  such 
exceptions  as  are  admitted  by  the  Highgate  oath  ;  and 
no  one  was  to  be  compelled  to  dance,  drink,  sing,  or 
feast,  whose  taste  did  not  happen  tj  incline  them  to  such 
diveriisements  ;  nor  was  any  one  to  be  compelled  to  wor- 
shi})  the  creative  power,  whether  under  the  name  of  the 
Animus  Jllundi,  or  any  other  whatsoever.  The  interfer- 
ence of  the  Deity  in  the  affiiirs  of  mankind  he  entirely 
disowned,  having  proved  to  his  own  satisfaction  that  the 
idea  originated  entirely  in  priestcraft.  In  short,  with  the 
shadowy  metaphysical  exception  aforesaid,  IMr.  Joshua 
Bletson  of  Darlington,  member  for  Little-creed,  came  as 
near  the  predicament  of  an  atheist,  as  it  is  perhaps  pos- 
sible for  a  man  to  do.  But  we  say  this  was  the  necessa- 
ry salvo ;  for  we  have  known  many  like  Bletson,  whose 
curtains  have  been  shrewdly  shaken  by  superstition, 
though  their  fears  were  unsanctioned  by  any  religious 
faith.  The  devils,  we  are  assured,  beheve  and  trenjble  ; 
but  on  earth  there  are  many,  who,  in  worse  phght  than 
even  the  natural  children  of  perdition,  tremble  without 
believing,  and  fear  even  while  they  blaspheme. 

It  follows,  of  course,  that  nothing  could  be  treated 
with  more  scorn  by  Mr.  Bletson  than  the  debates  about 
Prelacy  and  Presbytery,  about  Presbytery  and  Indepen- 
dency, ahout  Quakers  and  Anabaptists,  Muggletonians 
and  Brownists,  and  all  the  various  sects  by  which  the 
Civil  War  had  commenced,  and  by  which  its  dissensions 
were  still  continued,  "it  was,"  he  said,  "  as  if  beasts 
of  burtiicn  should  quarrel  amongst  themselves  al)0iit  the 
fashion  of  their  halters  and  pack  saddles,  instead  of  em- 
bracing a  favourable  opportunity  of  throwing  them  aside." 
Other  witty  and   pithy  remarks  he  used   to  make   when 


162  \VOOD. STOCK. 

time  and  place  suited  ;  for  instance,  at  the  club  called 
the  Rota,  frequented  by  Saint  John,  and  established  by 
Harrington  for  the  free  discussion  of  political  and  relig- 
ious subjects. 

But  when  Bletson  was  out  of  this  academy,  or  strong- 
hold of  philosophy,  he  was  very  cautious  how  he  carried 
his  contempt  of  the  general  prejudice  in  favour  of  relig- 
ion and  Christianity  further  than  an  implied  objection  or 
a  sneer.  If  lie  had  an  opportunity  of  talking  in  private 
with  an  ingenious  and  intelligent  youth,  he  sometimes 
attempted  to  make  a  proselyte,  and  showed  much  ad- 
dress in  bribing  the  vanity  of  inexperience,  by  susi;gesting 
that  a  mind  like  his  ought  to  spurn  the  prejuoTces  im- 
pressed upon  it  in  childhood  ;  and  assuming  the  latus 
clavus  of  reason,  assuring  him  that  such  as  he,  laying 
aside  the  bulla  of  juvenile  incapacity,  as  Bletson  called 
it,  should  proceed  to  examine  and  decide  for  himself. 
It  frequently  happened,  that  the  youth  was  induced  to 
adopt  the  doctrines  in  whole,  or  in  part,  of  the  sage  who 
had  seen  his  natural  genius,  and  who  had  urged  him  to 
exert  it  in  examining,  detecting,  and  declp.riijg  for  him- 
self; and  thus  flattery  gave  proselytes  to  infidelity,  which 
could  not  have  been  gained  by  all  the  powerful  elo- 
quence, or  artful  sophistry,  of  the  infidel. 

These  attempts  to  extend  the  influence  of  what  v.as 
called  free-thinking  and  ph!losoj)hy,  were  carried  on,  as 
we  have  hinted,  wiih  a  caution  dictated  by  the  timidity 
of  the  philosopher's  disposition.  He  was  conscious  his 
doctrines  wcire  suspected,  and  his  proceedings  watched, 
by  the  two  principal  sects  of  Prelatisls  and  Presbyterians, 
who,  however  inimical  to  each  otiier,  were  still  more 
hostile  to  one  who  was  an  opponent,  not  only  to  a  church 
establishment  of  any  kind,  but  to  every  denomination  of 
Christianity.  He  found  it  more  easy  to  shroud  himself 
among  the  Independents,  whose  demands  were  for  a 
general  liberty  of  cojisoience,  or  nn  unliu)ited  toleration^ 
and  whose  faith,  difFerins;  in  all  respects  and  particulars, 
was  by  si:na  pushed  into  such  wild  eiTors,  as  to  get  totally 
beyond  the  bounds  of  every  speci'^s  o!"  Ciiiisiianity,  and 


Woodstock- 


is: 


approach  very  near  to  infidelity  itself,  as  extremes  ol' 
each  kind  are  said  to  approach  each  other.  Bletson 
mixed  a  good  deal  among  those  sectaries  :  and  such  was 
his  confidence  in  his  own  logic  and  address,  that  he  is 
supposed  to  have  entertained  hopes  ot"  bringing  to  his 
opinions  in  time  the  enthusiastic  Vane,  as  well  as  the  no 
less  enthusiastic.  Harrison,  providing  he  could  but  get 
them  to  resign  their  visions  of  a  Filth  JMonarchy,  and  in- 
duce them  to  be  contented  with  a  reign  of  Philosophers 
in  England  for  the  natural  period  of  their  lives,  instead 
of  the  reign  of  the  Saints  during  the  Millenium. 

Such  was  the  singular  group  into  which  Everard  was 
now  introduced  ;  showing,  in  their  various  opinions,  upon 
how  many  devious  coasts  hunjan  nature  may  make  ship- 
wreck, when  she  has  once  let  go  her  hold  on  the  anchor 
which  religion  has  given  her  to  lean  upon  ;  ihe  acute 
self-conceit  and  worldly  learning  of  Bletson — the  rash 
and  ignorant  conclusions  of  the  fierce  and  under-bred 
Harrison,  leading  them  into  the  opposite  extremes  of  en- 
thusiasm and  infidelity,  while  Desboiough,  constitutionally 
stupid,  thought  nothing  about  religion  at  all ;  and  while  the 
others  were  active  in  making  sail  on  different  but  equally 
erioneous  courses,  he  might  be  said  to  perish  like  a  ves- 
sel, which  springs  a  leak  and  founders  in  the  roadstead. 
It  was  wonderful  to  behold  what  a  strange  variety  of  mis- 
takes and  errors,  on  tlie  part  of  the  King  and  his  INJinis- 
ters,  on  the  part  of  the  Parliament  and  their  leaders,  on 
the  part  of  the  allied  kingdoms  of  Scotland  and  England 
towards  each  other,  had  combined  to  rear  up  men  of 
such  dangerous  opinions  and  interested  characters  among 
the  arbiters  of  the  destiny  of  Britain. 

Those  who  argue  for  party's  sake,  will  see  all  the  faults 
on  the  one  side,  wiihoiit  deigning  to  look  at  those  on  the 
other  ;  those  who  study  history  for  instruction,  \AiIl  per- 
ceive that  nothing  but  the  want  of  concession  on  either 
side,  and  the  deadly  height  to  which  the  animosity  of  the 
King's  and  Parliament's  parties  had  arisen,  could  have 
so  totally  overthrown  the  well-poised  balance  of  the  Eng- 


154 


WOODSTOCK. 


lish  constitution.  But  we  hasten  to  quit  poltical  reflec- 
tions, the  rather  that  ours,  we  believe,  will  please  neither 
Whig  nor  Tory. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Three  form  a  College — an  you  g'rve  us  four, 
Lei  liim  bring  his  share  with  him. 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 

Mr.  Bletsox  arose,  and  paid  his  respects  to  Colonel 
Everard,  with  the  ease  and  courtesy  of  a  gentleman  of 
the  time  ;  though  on  every  account  grieved  at  his  intru- 
sion, as  a  religious  man  who  held  his  free-thinking  prin- 
ciples in  detestation,  and  would  effectually  prevent  his 
conversion  of  Harrison,  and  even  of  Desborough,  if  any- 
thing could  be  moulded  out  of  such  a  clod  to  the  worship 
of  the  Animus  Mundi.  Moreover,  Bletson  knew  Everard 
to  be  a  man  of  steady  probity,  and  by  no  means  disposed 
to  close  with  a  scheme  on  which  he  had  successfully 
sounded  the  other  two,  and  which  was  calculated  to  assure 
the  Commissioners  of  some  little  private  indemnification 
for  the  trouble  they  were  to  give  themselves  in  the  public 
business.  The  philosopher  was  yet  less  pleased  when|j|e 
saw  the  magistrate  and  the  pastor  who  had  met  him  in  his 
flight  of  the  preceding  evening,  when  he  had  been  seen, 
panna  non  bene  relicta,  with  cloak  and  doublet  left 
behind  him. 

The  presence  of  Colonel  Everard  was  as  unpleasing 
to  Desborough  as  to  Bletson  ;  but  the  former  having  no 
philosophy  in  him,  nor  an  idea  that  it  was  possible  for  any 
man  to  resist  helping  hiinself  out  of  untold  money,  was 
chiefly  embarrassed  by  the  thought,  that  the  plunder  which 
they  might  be  able  to  achieve  out  of  their  trust,  might, 
by  this  unwelcome  addition  to  their  nmnber,  be  divided 
into  four  parts  instead  of  three  ;  and  this  reflection  addtfd 


WOODSTOCK.  155 

to  the  natural  awkwardness  with  which  he  grumbled  forth 
a  sort  of  welcome,  addressed  to  Everard. 

As  for  Harrison,  lie  rem;iiiied  like  one  on  higher 
thoughts  intent  ;  his  posture  unmoved,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  ceiling  as  before,  and  no  part  of  him  indicated  the 
least  consciousness  that  the  cou»pa"ny  had  been  more  than 
doubled  around  him. 

]\Jeantime,  Everard  took  his  place  at  the  table,  as  a 
man  who  assumed  his  own  rigiit,  and  pointed  to  his  com- 
panions to  sit  down  nearer  the  loot  of  the  board.  Wild- 
rake  so  far  misunderstood  his  signals,  as  to  sit  down 
above  the  Mayor ;  but,  rallying  his  recollection  at  a  look 
from  his  patron,  he  rose  and  took  his  place  lower,  whistl- 
ing, however,  as  he  went,  a  sound  at  which  the  conjpany 
started,  as  at  a  freedom  highly  unbecoujing.  To  com- 
plete his  indecorum,  he  seized  upon  a  pipe,  and  filling  it 
from  a  large  lobacco4>ox,  was  soon  immersed  in  a  cloud 
of  his  own  raising  ;  from  which  a  hand  shortly  after 
emerged,  seized  on  the  black-jack  of  ale,  withdrew  it 
within  the  vapoury  sanctuary,  and,  alter  a  potentnal 
draught,  replaced  it  upon  the  table,  its  owner  beginning 
to  renew  the  cloud  which  his  intermitted  exercise  of  the 
tube  had  almost  allowed  to  subside. 

Nobody  made  any  observation  on  his  conduct,  out  of 
respect,  [)robably,  to  Colonel  Everard,  who  bit  liis  lip, 
but  continued  silent  ;  aware  that  censure  might  extract 
someiliing  more  unequivocally  characteristic  of  a  cavalier, 
from  his  refractory  companion.  As  silence  seemed  too 
awkward,  and  the  otheis  niade  no  advances  to  break  it, 
beyond  the  ordinary  salutation,  Colonel  Everard  at  length 
said,  "  1  presume,  gentlemen,  that  you  are  someuhat 
surprised  at  my  arrival  here,  and  thus  intruding  m}  self 
into  your  meeting." 

"  Why  the  dickens  should  we  be  surprised,  Cobnel  ?^^ 
said  Desborough;  "we  know  his  Excellency,  mv  brother- 
in-law  Noll's — I  mean  my  Lord  Cromwell's  way,  of 
over-fjiiarterlng  his  men  in  the  towns  he  marches  through. 
Tjiou'hast  obtained  a  share  in  our  commission.^" 


156 


WOODSTOCK. 


"  And  in  that,"  said  Bletson,  smiling  and  bowing,  "  the 
Lord  General  has  given  us  the  most  acceptable  colleague 
that  could  have  been  added  to  our  number.  No  doubt 
your  authority  for  joining  with  us  must  be  under  warrant 
of  the  Council  of  State  ?" 

"  Of  that,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  .1  will  pres- 
ently advise  you." — He  took  out  his  warrant  accordingly, 
and  was  about  to  commiuiicate  the  contents  ;  but  ob- 
serving that  there  were  three  or  four  half- empty  flasks 
upon  tlie  table,  that  Deshoroun;!)  looked  more  stupid  than 
usual,  and  that  the  philosoj^her's  eyes  were  reeling  in  his 
head,  notwithstanding  the  tempeiance  of  Bletson's  usual 
habits,  he  concluded  that  they  had  been  fortifying  them- 
selves against  the  horrors  of  the  hnunted  mansion,  by 
laying  in  a  store  of  what  is  called  Dutch  courage,  and 
therefore  prudently  resolved  to  postpone  his  n)ore  im- 
portant business  with  them  till  the  cooler  hour  of  morning. 
He  therefore,  instead  of  presenting  the  General's  warrant 
superseding  their  coniniission,  contented  himself  with 
replying, — "  My  business  has,  of  course,  some  reterence 
to  your  proceedings  here.  But  here  is — excuse  my  cu- 
riosity— a  reverend  gentleman,"  pointing  to  Holdenough, 
"  who  has  told  me  tliat  you  are  so  strangely  embarrassed 
here,  as  to  require  both  the  civil  and  spiritual  authority 
to  enable  you  to  keep  possession  of  Woodstock." 

"  Before  we  go  into  the  matter,"  said  Bletson,  blush- 
ing up  to  the  eyes  at  the  recollection  of  his  own  fears, 
so  manifestly  displayed,  yet  so  inconsistent  with  his  prin- 
ciples, "  1  should  like  to  know  who  this  other  stranger  is, 
who  has  come  with  the  worthy  magistrate,  and  the  no 
less  worthy  Presbyterian." 

*'  Meaning  me  ?"  said  Wildrake,  laying  his  pipe 
aside  ;  "  Gadzooks,  the  time  hath  been  that  I  could  have 
answered  the  question  with  a  better  title  ;  but  at  present  I 
am  only  his  honour's  poor  clerk,  or  secretary,  whichever 
is  the  current  phrase." 

"  'Fore  Geor-^e,  my  lively  blade,  thou  art  a  frank 
fellow  of  thv  tattle,"  said  Desborough.  "  There  is  my 
secretary  Tomkins,  whom   men  sillily  enough  call  Fib- 


WOODSTOCK. 


157 


bet,  and  the  honourable  Lieutenant  General  Harrison's 
secretary  Bibbet,  who  are  now  ai  supper  below  stairs, 
that  duist  not  lor  their  ears  speak  a  phrase  above  ilieir 
breath  in  the  presence  of  their  betters,  unless  to  answer  a 
question." 

"  Yes,  Colonel  Everard,"  said  the  philoso|  her  with 
his  quiet  smile,  glad,  apparently,  to  divert  the  t  onversa- 
tion  from  the  topic  ot"  last  night's  alaru),  and  recollections 
which  humbled  his  self-love  and  sell-satisiaction, — "  )es; 
and  when  Master  Fibbet  and  Master  Bibbet  do  speak, 
their  affirmations  are  as  much  in  a  common  mould  ol  mu- 
tual attestation,  as  their  nnmes  v\ould  accord  in  the  verses 
of  a  poet.  If  Master  Fibbet  happens  to  tell  a  fiction, 
Master  Hil  bet  swears  it  as  tiuih.  If  Master  Bibbet 
chances  to  have  gotten  drunk  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord, 
Master  Fibbet  swears  he  is  sober.  1  have  called  my 
own  secretary  Gibbet,  though  his  naiTiC  chances  to  be 
only  Gibeon,  a  worthy  Israelite  at  your  service,  but  as 
pure  a  youth  as  ever  picked  a  lamb-bone  at  Paschal. 
But  I  call  him  Gibbet,  mert-ly  to  make  up  the  holy  trefoil 
with  another  rhyme.  This  squire  of  thine.  Colonel 
Everard,  looks  as  if  he  might  be  worthy  to  be  coupled 
with  the  rest  of  the  fraternity." 

*'  Not  1,  truly,"  said  the  cavalier  ;  "  I'll  be  coupled 
with  no  Jew  that  was  ever  whelped,  and  no  Jewess 
neither." 

"  Scorn  not  for  that,  young  man,"  said  the  philosopher ; 
*•  the  Jews  are,  in  point  of  religion,  the  elder  brethren, 
you  know." 

"  The  Jews  older  than  the  Christians  ?"  said  Desbo- 
rough  ;  *'  'fore  George,  they  will  have  thee  before  the 
General  Assembly,  Bletson,  if  thou  venturest  to  say  so." 

Wildrake  laughed  without  ceren^ony  at  the  gross  igno- 
rance of  Desborough,  and  joined  by  a  sniggling  response 
from  behind  the  cupboard,  which,  when  inquired  into, 
proved  to  be  produced  by  the  serving  men.  These 
worthies,  timorous  as  their  betters,  when  they  had  set 
down  the  lights,  and  were  supposed  to  have  left  the  room, 

14       VOL.    1. 


168  WOODSTOCK. 


* 


had  only  absconded  behind  their  present  place  of  con- 
ceahnent. 

*'  How  now,  ye  rogues,"  said  Bletson,  angrily  ;  "  do 
you  not  know  your  duty  better  ?" 

"  We  beg  your  worthy  honour's  pardon,"  said  one  of 
the  men,  "  but  we  had  set  the  candlesticks  down  on  the 
table,  and  truly  we  dared  not  go  down  stairs  till  we  should 
get  a  light." 

"  A  light,  ye  cowardly  poltroons  ?"  said  the  phi- 
losopher, "  what — to  show  which  of  you  looks  palest 
when  a  rat  squeaks  ? — but  take  a  candlestick  and  begone, 
you  cowardly  villains  !  the  devils  you  are  so  much  afraid 
of  must  be  but  paltry  kites,  if  ihey  hawk  at  such  bats  as 
you  are." 

The  servants,  without  replying,  took  up  one  of  the 
candlesticks,  and  prepared  to  retreat.  Trusty  Tomkins 
at  the  head  of  the  troop,  when  suddenly,  as  they  arriv- 
ed at  the  door  of  the  parlour,  which  had  been  left  half 
open,  it  was  shut  violently.  The  three  terrified  domes- 
tics tumbled  back  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  as  if  a 
shot  had  been  discharged  in  their  face,  and  all  who  were 
at  the  table  started  to  their  feet. 

Colonel  Everard  was  incapable  of  a  moment's  fear, 
even  if  any  thing  frightful  had  been  seen  ;  but  he  re- 
mained stationary,  to  see  what  his  companions  would  do, 
and  to  get  at  the  bottom,  if  possible,  of  the  cause  of  their 
alarm  upon  an  occasion  so  trifling.  The  philosopher 
seemed  to  think  that  he  was  the  person  chiefly  concerned 
to  show  manhood  on  the  occasion. 

He  walked  to  the  door  accordingly,  murmuring  at  the 
cowardice  of  the  servants  ;  but  at  such  a  snail's  pace, 
that  it  seemed  he  would  most  willingly  have  been  antici- 
pated by  any  one  whom  his  reproaches  had  roused  to 
exertion.  "  Cowardly  blockheads  !"  he  said  at  last, 
seizing  hold  of  the  handle  of  the  door,  but  without  turn- 
ing it  effectually  round — "  dare  you  not  open  a  door  .^" 
— (still  fumbling  with  the  lock) — *'  dare  you  not  go  down 
a  stair-case  without  a  light  ^     Here,  bring  me  the  candle, 


WOODSTOCK.  159 

you  cowardly  villains  ! — By  Heaven,  something  sighs 
on  the  outside  !" 

As  he  spoke,  he  let  go  the  handle  of  the  parlour  door, 
and  stepped  back  a  pace  or  two  into  the  apartment,  with 
cheeks  as  pale  as  the  band  he  wore. 

"  Deus  adjutor  mens  V  said  tiie  Presbyterian  cler- 
gyman, rising  from  his  seat.  "  Give  place,  sir,"  ad- 
dressing Bletson  ;  "  it  would  seem  1  know  more  of  this 
matter  than  thou,  and  1  bless  Heaven  I  am  armed  for 
the  conflict." 

Bold  as  a  grenadier  about  to  mount  a  breach,  yet  with 
the  same  belief  in  the  existence  of  a  great  danger  to  be 
encountered,  as  well  as  the  same  reliance  in  the  good- 
ness of  his  cause,  the  worthy  man  stepped  before  the 
philosophical  Bletson,  and  taking  a  light  from  a  sconce  in 
one  hand,  quietly  opened  the  door  with  the  other,  and 
standing  in  the  threshold,  said,   "  Here  is  nothing  !" 

*'  And  who  expected  to  see  anything,"  said  Bletson, 
"  excepting  those  terrified  oafs,  who  take  fright  at  every 
puff  of  wind  that  whistles  through  the  passage  of  this  old 
dungeon  V 

"  Mark  you,  Master  Tomkins,"  said  one  of  the  wait- 
ing-men in  a  whisper  to  the  steward, — "  See  how  boldly 
the  minister  pressed  forward  before  all  of  them.  Ah  ! 
Master  Tomkins,  our  parson  is  the  real  commissioned 
officer  of  the  church — your  lay  preachers  are  no  better 
than  a  parcel  of  club-men   and  volunteers." 

"  Follow  me  those  who  list,"  said  Master  Hold- 
enough,  "  or  go  before  me  those  who  choose,  I  w^ill  walk 
through  the  habitable  places  of  this  house  before  I  leave 
it,  and  satisfy  myself  whether  Satan  hath  really  mingled 
himself  among  these  dreary  dens  of  ancient  wickedness, 
or  whether,  like  the  wicked  of  whom  holy  David  speak- 
eth,  we  are  afraid,  and  flee  when  no  one  pursueth." 

Harrison,  who  had  heard  these  words,  sprung  from 
his  seat,  and  drawing  his  sword,  exclaimed,  "  Were 
there  as  many  fiends  in  the  house  as  there  are  hairs  on 
my  head,  upon  this  cause  I  will  charge  them  up  to  their 
very  trenches  !" 


160  WOODSTOCK. 

So  saying,  he  brandished  his  weapon,  and  pressed  to 
the  head  ol  the  column,  wliere  he  moved  side  by  side 
witli  the  minister.  The  Mayor  of  Woodstock  next  join- 
ed the  body,  thinking  himself  safer  perhaps  in  the  com^ 
pany  of  his  pastor  ;  and  the  whole  train  moved  forward 
in  close  order,  accompanied  by  the  servants  bearing  lights, 
to  search  the  Lodge  for  some  cause  of  that  panic  with 
which  they  seemed  to  be  suddenly  seized. 

"  Nay,  take  me  with  you  my  friends,"  said  Colonel 
Everard,  who  had  looked  on  in  surprise,  and  was  now 
about  to  follow  the  party,  when  Bletson  laid  hold  on  his 
cloak,  and  begged  him  to  remain. 

"  You  see,  my  good  Colonel,"  he  said,  affecting  a 
courage  which  his  shaking  voice  belied,  "  here  are  only 
you  and  1,  and  honest  Desborough,  left  behind,  in  garri- 
son, while  all  the  others  are  absent  on  a  sally.  We  must 
not  hazard  the  whole  troops  in  one  sortie — that  were  un- 
military — Ha,  ha,  ha  !" 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  what  means  all  this  .^"  said 
Everard.  "  1  heard  a  foolish  tale  about  apparitions  as 
I  came  this  way,  and  now  1  find  you  all  half  mad  with 
fear,  and  cannot  get  a  word  of  sense  among  so  many  of 
you.  Fie,  Colonel  Desborough — fie.  Master  Bletson — 
try  to  compose  yourselves,  and  let  me  know,  in  Heaven's 
name,  the  cause  of  all  this  disturbance.  One  would  be 
apt  to  think  your  brains  were  turned." 

"  And  so  mine  well  may,"  said  Desborough,  '*  ay, 
and  overturned  too  since  my  bed  last  night  was  turned 
upside  down,  and  I  was  placed  for  ten  minutes  heels 
uppermost,  and  head  downmost,  like  a  bullock  going  to 
be  shod." 

"  What  means  this  nonsense,  Master  Bletson  ? — Des- 
borou2;h  must  have  had  the  nigrht-mare." 

"  No,  faith,  Colonel,  the  goblins,  or  whatever  else  they 
were,  had  been  favourable  to  honest  Desborough,  for 
they  reposed  the  whole  of  his  person  on  that  part  of  his 
body  which — Hark,  did  you  not  hear  something  ^ — is 
the  central  point  of  gravity,  namely  his  head," 


WOODSTOCK.  161 

**Did  you  see  anything  to  alarm  you  ?"  said  the  Col- 
onel. 

*'  Nothing,"  said  Bletson  ;  "  but  we  heard  helhsh 
noises,  as  all  our  people  did  ;  and  J,  believing  little  of 
ghosts  and  apparitions,  concluded  the  cavaliers  were 
taking  us  at  advantage  ;  so  renienibering  Rainsborough's 
fate,  1  e'en  juniped  the  window,  and  ran  to  Woodstock, 
to  call  the  soldiers  to  the  rescue  of  Harrison  and  Des- 
borough." 

"  And  did  you  not  first  go  to  see  what  the  danger  was  f" 

"  Ah,  my  good  friend,  you  forget  that  ]  laid  down  my 
commission  at  the  time  of  the  self-denying  ordinance. 
It  would  have  been  quite  inconsistent  with  my  duty  as  a 
Parliament-man,  to  be  brawling  amidst  a  set  of  ruffians, 
without  any  military  ai'thority.  No — when  the  Parha- 
ment  commanded  me  to  sheathe  my  sword,  Colonel,  I 
have  too  much  veneration  for  their  authority,  to  be  found 
again  with  it  drawn  in  my  hand." 

*'  But  the  Parliament,"  said  Desborough  hastily,  ''  did 
not  command  you  to  use  your  heels  when  your  hands 
Tvould  have  saved  a  man  from  choking.  Odds  dickens  ! 
you  might  have  stopped  when  }ou  saw  my  bed  canted 
heels  uppermost,  and  me  half-stifled  in  the  bed-clothes — 
you  might,  1  say,  have  stopped  and  lent  a  hand  to  put 
it  to  rights,  instead  of  jumping  out  of  window,  like  a 
new-shorn  sheep,  as  soon  as  you  had  run  across  my 
room." 

"  Nay,  worshipful  Master  Desborough,"  said  Bletson, 
winking  on  Everard,  to  show  that  he  was  playing  on  his 
thick-skulled  colleague,  "  how  could  I  tell  your  particular 
mode  of  reposing? — there  are  many  tastes — I  have  known 
men  who  slept  by  choice  on  a  slope  or  angle  of  forty- 
five." 

"  Yes,  but  did  ever  a  man  sleep  standing  on  his  head, 
except  by  miracle  .^"  said  Desborough, 

"  Now,  as  to  miracles — "  said  the  philosopher,  con- 
fident in  the  pif^sence  of  Eveiard,  besides  that  an  op* 
portunity  of  scoffing  at  religion  really  in  some  degree 

14*       VOL.    I. 


162 


WOODSTOCK. 


diverted  his  fear — "  I  leave  these  out  of  the  question, 
seeing  that  the  evidence  on  such  subjects  seems  as  Htlle 
qualified  to  carry  conviction,  as  a  horse-hair  to  land  a 
leviathan." 

A  loud  clap  of  thunder,  or  a  noise  as  formidable  rang 
through  the  Lodge  as  the  scoffer  had  ended,  which  struck 
him  pale  and  motionless,  and  made  Desborough  throw 
himself  on  his  knees,  and  repeat  exclamations  and  prayers 
in  much  admiied  confusion. 

"  There  must  be  contrivance  here,"  exclaimed  Eve- 
rard  ;  and  snatching  one  of  the  candles  from  a  sconce, 
he  rushed  out  of  the  apartment,  little  heeding  the  entrea- 
ties of  the  philosopher,  who,  in  the  extremity  of  his 
distress,  conjured  him  by  the  Animus  Mundi  to  remain  to 
the  assistance  of  a  distressed  philosopher  endangered  by 
witches,  and  a  Parliament-man  assaulted  by  ruffians. 
As  for  Desborough,  he  only  gaped  like  a  clowm  in  a  pan- 
tomime ;  and,  doubtful  whether  to  follow  or  stop,  his 
natural  indolence  prevailed,  and  he  sat  still. 

When  on  the  landing-place  of  the  stairs,  Everard 
paused  a  moment  to  consider  which  was  the  best  course 
to  take.  He  heard  the  voices  of  men  talking  fast  and 
loud,  like  people  who  wish  to  drown  their  fears,  in  the 
low^er  story  ;  and  aware  that  nothing  could  be  discover- 
ed by  those  whose  inquiries  were  conducted  in  a  manner 
so  noisy,  he  resolved  to  proceed  in  a  different  direction, 
and  examine  the  second  floor,  which  he  had  now  gained. 

He  had  known  every  corner,  both  of  the  inliabited  and 
uninhabited  part  of  the  mansion,  and  availed  himself  of 
the  candle,  to  traverse  two  or  three  intricate  passages, 
which  he  was  afraid  he  might  not  remember  with  suffi- 
cient accuracy.  This  movement  conveyed  him  to  a  sort 
of  Oeuil-de-beufj  an  octagon  vestibule,  or  small  hall,  from 
which  various  rooms  opened.  Amongst  these  doors, 
Everard  selected  that  wlwch  led  to  a  very  long,  narrow, 
and  dilapidated  gallery,  built  in  the  time  of  Henry  VIII. 
and  running  along  the  whole  south-west  side  of  the  build- 
ing, communicating  at  different  points  with  the  rest  of  the 
mansion.      This  he  thought  was  hkely  to  be  the  post 


AVOODSTOCK.  163 

occupied  by  those  who  proposed  to  act  the  sprites  upon 
the  occasion  ;  especially  as  its  length  and  shape  gave  him 
some  idea  that  it  was  a  spot  where  the  bold  thunder 
might  in  many  ways  be  imitated. 

Determined  to  ascertain  the  truth  if  possible,  he  placed 
his  hght  on  a  table  in  the  vestibule,  and  applied  himself  to 
open  the  door  into  the  gallery.  At  this  point  he  found 
himself  strongly  opposed  either  by  a  bolt  drawn,  or,  as 
he  rather  conceived,  by  somebody  from  within  resisting 
his  attempt.  He  was  induced  to  believe  the  latter,  be- 
cause the  resistance  slackened  and  was  renewed,  like 
that  of  human  strength,  instead  of  presenting  the  perma- 
nent opposition  of  an  inanimate  obstacle.  Though  Eve- 
rard  was  a  strong  and  active  young  man,  he  exhausted 
his  strength  in  the  vain  attempt  to  open  the  door  ;  and 
having  paused  to  take  breath,  was  about  to  renew  his 
efforts  with  foot  and  shoulder,  and  to  call  at  the  same 
time  for  assistance,  when  to  his  surprise,  on  again  at- 
tempting the  door  more  gently,  in  order  to  ascertain  if 
possible  where  the  strength  of  the  opposing  obstacle  was 
situated,  he  found  it  give  way  to  a  very  slight  impulse, 
some  impediment  fell  broken  to  the  ground,  and  the  door 
flew  wide  open.  The  gust  of  wind,  occasioned  by  the 
sudden  opening  of  the  door,  blew  out  the  candle,  and 
Everard  was  left  in  darkness,  save  where  the  moonshine, 
which  the  long  side-row  of  latticed  windows  dimmed, 
could  imperfectly  force  its  way  into  the  gallery,  which 
lay  in  ghostly  length  before  him. 

The  melancholy  and  doubtful  twilight  was  increased 
by  a  quantity  of  creeping  plants  on  the  outside,  which, 
since  all  had  been  neglected  in  these  ancient  halls,  now 
completely  overgrown,  had  in  some  instances  greatly  di- 
minished, and  in  others  almost  quite  choked  up,  the 
space  of  the  lattices,  extending  between  the  heavy  stone 
shaft-work  which  divided  the  windows,  both  lengthways 
and  across.  On  the  other  side  there  were  no  windows 
at  all,  and  tlie  gallery  had  been  once  completely  hung 
with  paintings,  chiefly  portraits,  by  which  that  side  of 
the  apartment  had  been  adorned.     Most  of  the  pictures 


164 


WOODSTOCK. 


had  been  removed,  yet  the  empty  frames  of  some,  and 
the  tattered  remnants  of  others,  were  still  visible  along 
the  extent  of  the  waste  gallery  ;  the  look  of  which  was 
so  desolate,  and  so  well  adapted  besides  for  mischief, 
supposing  there  were  enemies  near  him,  that  Everard 
could  not  help  pausing  at  the  entrance,  and  recommend* 
ing  himself  to  God,  ere,  drawing  his  sword,  he  advanced 
into  the  apartment,  treading  as  lightly  as  possible,  and 
keeping  in  the  shadow  as  much  as  he  could. 

Markham  Everard  was  by  no  means  superstitious,  but 
he  had  the  usual  credulity  of  his  times ;  and  though  he 
did  not  yield  easily  to  tales  of  supernatural  visitations, 
yet  he  could  not  help  thinking  he  was  in  the  very  situa- 
tion, where,  if  such  things  were  ever  permitted,  they 
might  be  expected  to  take  place,  while  his  own  stealthy 
and  ill-assured  pace,  his  dravvn  weapon,  and  extended 
arms,  being  the  very  attitude  and  action  of  doubt  and 
suspicion,  tended  to  increase  in  his  mind  the  gloomy 
feelings  of  which  they  are  constantly  associated.  Under 
such  unpleasant  impressions,  and  conscious  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  something  unfriendly.  Colonel  Everard  had 
already  advanced  about  half  along  the  gallery,  when  he 
heard  some  one  sigh  very  near  him,  and  a  lov/  soit  voice 
pronounced  his  name. 

"  Here  I  am,"  he  replied,  while  his  heart  beat  thick 
and  short.     "  Who  calls  on  Markham  Everard  f  * 

Another  sigh  was  the  only  answer*- 

"  Speak,"  said  the  Colonel,  ''  whoever  or  whatsoever 
you  are,  and  tell  with  what  intent  and  purpose  you  are 
lurking  in  these  apartments  f" 

"  With  a  better  intent  than  yours,"  returned  the  soft 
voice. 

"  Than  mine  !"  answered  Everard  in  great  surprise. 
"Who  are  you  that  dare  judge  of  my  intents  r" 

"What,  or  who  are  you,  Markham  Everard,  who 
wander  by  moonlight  through  these  deserted  halls  of  roy- 
alty, where  none  should  be  but  those  who  mourn  their 
downfall,  or  are  sworn  to  avenge  it  .'*" 


WOODSTOCK.  165 

"  It  is — and  yet  it  cannot  be,"  said  Everard  ;  "  yet  it 
is,  and  must  be.  Alice  Lee,  the  devil  or  you  speaks. 
Answer  me,  I  conjure  you  ! — speak  openly — on  what 
dangerous  scheme  are  you  engaged  ?  where  is  your  hith- 
er ^  why  are  you  here — wherelore  do  you  run  so  clciidly 
a  venture  ? — Speak,  1  conjure  you,  Ahce  Lee  !" 

*'  She,  vvlioin  you  call,  is  at  the  distance  of  miles  from 
this  spot.  VViiat  if  her  Genius  speaks  when  she  is  ab- 
sent .'* — what  if  the  soul  of  an  ancestress  of  hers  and  yours 
were  now  addressing  you  ? — what  if " 

"  Nay,"  answered  Everard,  "  hut  wliatif  the  dearest 
of  human  beings  has  caught  a  touch  of  her  father's  enthu- 
siasm ?  what  if  she  is  exposing  her  person  to  danger,  her 
reputation  to  scandal,  by  traversing  in  disguise  and  in 
darkness  a  house  filled  with  armed  men  ?  Speak  to  me, 
my  fair  cousin,  in  your  own  person.  1  am  furnished 
with  powers  to  protect  my  uncle,  Sir  Henry — to  protect 
you  100,  dearest  Alice,  even  against  the  consequences  of 
this  visionary  and  wild  attenjpt.  Speak — I  see  where 
you  are,  and  with  all  my  respect,  I  cannot  submit  to  be 
thus  practised  upon.  Trust  me — trust  your  cousin  Mark- 
ham  with  your  hand,  and  believe  that  he  will  die  or  place 
you  in  honourable  safety." 

As  he  spoke,  he  exercised  his  eyes  as  keenly  as  pos- 
sible to  detect  where  the  speaker  stood  ;  and  it  seemed 
to  hiu),  that  about  three  yards  from  him  there  was  a 
shadowy  form,  of  which  he  could  not  discern  even  the 
outline,  placed  as  it  was  within  the  deep  and  prolonged 
shadow  thrown  by  a  space  of  wall  intervening  betwixt 
two  windows,  upon  that  side  of  the  room  from  which  the 
light  was  admitted.  He  endeavoured  to  calculate  as 
well  as  he  could,  the  distance  betwixt  himself  and  the 
object  which  he  watched,  under  the  impression,  that  if, 
by  even  using  a  slight  degree  of  compulsion,  he  could 
detach  his  beloved  Alice  from  the  confederacy  into  which 
he  supposed  her  father's  zeal  for  the  cause  of  royalty 
had  engaged  her,  he  would  be  rendering  them  both  the 
most  essential  favour.  He  could  not  indeed  but  con- 
clude,  that  however  successfullv  the  plot  which  he  con- 


166 


WOODSTOCK. 


ceived  to  be  in  agitation  had  proceeded  against  the  timid 
Bletson,  the  stupid  Desborough,  and  the  crazy  Harrison, 
there  was  httle  doubt  that  at  length  their  artifices  must 
necessarily  bring  shame  and  danger  on  those  engaged 
in  it. 

It  must  also  be  remembered,  that  Everard's  affection 
to  his  cousin,  although  of  the  most  respectful  and  devoted 
character,  partook  less  of  the  distant  veneration  which  a 
lover  of  those  days  entertained  for  the  lady  whom  he 
worshipped  with  humble  diffidence,  than  of  the  fond  and 
familiar  feelings  which  a  brother  entertains  towards  a 
younger  sister,  whom  he  thinks  himself  entitled  to  guide, 
advise,  and  even  in  some  degree  to  control.  So  kindly 
and  intimate  had  been  their  intercourse,  that  he  had  little 
more  hesitation  in  endeavouring  to  arrest  her  progress  in 
the  dangerous  course  in  which  she  seemed  to  be  engaged, 
even  at  the  risk  of  giving  her  momentary  offence,  than 
he  would  have  had  in  snatching  her  from  a  torrent  or 
conflagration,  at  the  chance  of  hurting  her  by  the  violence 
of  his  grasp.  All  this  passed  through  his  mind  in  the 
course  of  a  single  minute  ;  and  he  resolved  at  all  events 
to  detain  her  on  the  spot,  and  compel,  if  possible,  an 
explanation  from  her. 

With  this  purpose,  Everard  again  conjured  his  cousin 
in  the  name  of  Heaven,  to  give  up  this  idle  and  danger- 
ous mummery  ;  and  lending  an  accurate  ear  to  her  an- 
swer, endeavoured  from  the  sound  to  calculate  as  nearly 
as  possible  the  distance  between  them. 

"  I  am  not  she  for  whom  you  take  me,"  said  the  voice  ; 
"  and  dearer  regards  than  aught  connected  with  her  life 
or  death,  bid  me  warn  you  to  keep  aloof,  and  leave  this 
place." 

"  Not  till  1  have  convinced  you  of  your  childish  folly," 
said  the  Colonel,  springing  forward,  and  endeavouring  to 
catch  hold  of  her  who  spoke  to  him.  But  no  female 
form  was  within  his  grasp.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  met 
by  a  shock  which  could  come  from  no  woman's  arm, 
and  which  was  rude  enough  to  stretch  him  on  his  back 
on  the  floor.      At  the  same  time  he  felt  the  point  of  a 


WOODSTOCK*  167 

sword  al  his  throat,  and  his  hands  so  completely  master- 
ed, that  not  the  slightest  defence   remained  to  him. 

"  A  cry  for  assistance,"  said  a  voice  near  him,  but  not 
that  which  he  had  hitherto  heard,  *'  will  be  stifled  in 
your  blood  ! — No  harm  is  meant  you — be  wise,  and  be 
Bilent." 

The  fear  of  death,  which  Everard  had  often  braved 
in  the  field  of  battle,  became  more  horrible  as  he  felt 
himself  in  the  hands  of  unknown  assassins,  and  totally 
devoid  of  all  means  of  defence.  The  sharp  point  of  the 
sword  pricked  his  bare  throat,  and  the  foot  of  him  who 
held  it  was  upon  his  breast.  He  felt  it  was  to  be  a  single 
thrust,  and  an  end  there  would  be  of  life,  and  all  the 
feverish  joys  and  sorrows  which  agitate  us  so  strangely, 
and  from  which  we  are  yet  so  reluctant  to  part.  Large 
drops  of  perspiration  stood  upon  his  forehead — his  heart 
throbbed  as  if  it  would  burst  from  its  confinement  in  the 
oosom — he  experienced  the  agony  which  fear  imposes 
Dn  the  brave  man,  acute  in  proportion  to  that  which  pain 
inflicts  when  it  subdues  the  robust  and  healthy. 

*'  Cousin  Alice," — he  attempted  to  speak,  and  the 
sword's  point  pressed  his  throat  yet  more  closely — 
"  Cousin,  let  me  not  be  murdered  in  a  manner  so 
fearful  !" 

"  I  tell  you,"  replied  the  voice,  "  that  you  speak  to 
one  who  is  not  here  ;  but  your  life  is  not  aimed  at,  pro- 
viding you  swear  on  your  faith  as  a  Christian,  and  your 
honor  as  a  gentleman,  that  you  will  conceal  what  has  hap- 
pened, whether  from  the  people  below,  or  from  any 
other  person.  On  this  condition  you  may  rise  ;  and  if 
you  seek  her,  you  will  find  Alice  Lee  at  Joceline's  cot- 
tage, in  the  forest." 

"  Since  I  may  not  help  myself  otherwise,"  said  Eve- 
rard, "  I  swear,  as  I  have  a  sense  of  religion  and  honour, 
I  will  say  nothing  of  this  violence,  nor  make  any  search 
after  those  who  are  concerned  in  it." 

"For  that  we  care  nothing,"  said  the  voice.  "Thou 
hast  an  example  how  well  thou  may'st  catch  mischief  on 


168  WOODSTOCK. 

thy  own  part ;  but  we  are  in  case  to  defy  thee.  Rise, 
and  begone  !" 

Tjie  loot,  the  sword's-point,  were  withdrawn,  and 
Everard  was  about  to  stiirt  up  hastily,  when  the  voice, 
in  the  same  softness  of  tone  which  distinguished  it  at 
first,  said,  *'  No  haste — ;Cold  and  bare  steel  is  yet  around 
thee.  Now — now — now — (the  words  dying  away  at  a 
distance) — thou  art  free.     Be  secret  and  be  safe." 

Markhain  Everard  arose,  and,  in  rising,  embarrassed 
his  feet  with  liis  own  sword,  which  he  had  dropped  when 
springing  forward,  as  he  supposed,  to  lay  hold  of  his  fair 
cousin.  He  snatched  it  up  in  haste,  and  as  his  hand 
clasped  the  hilt,  his  courage,  which  had  given  way  under 
the  apprehension  of  instant  death,  began  to  return  ;  he 
considered,  with  almost  his  usual  composure,  what  was 
to  be  done  next.  Deeply  affronted  at  the  disgrace  which 
he  had  sustained,  he  questioned  for  an  instant  whether  he 
ought  to  keep  his  extorted  promise,  or  should  not  rather 
summon  assistance,  and  make  haste  to  discover  and  seize 
those  who  had  been  recently  engaged  in  such  violence 
on  his  person.  But  these  persons,  be  they  who  they 
would,  had  had  his  life  in  their  power — he  hid  pledged 
his  word  in  ransom  of  it — and  what  was  more,  he  could 
not  divest  hiinself  of  the  idea  that  his  beloved  Alice  was 
a  confidante  at  least,  if  not  an  actor,  in  the  coni*ederacy 
which  had  thus  bafHed  him.  This  prepossession  deter- 
mined his  conduct;  for,  thou2;h  angry  at  supposing  she 
must  have  been  accessary  to  his  personal  ill-treatment,  he 
could  not  in  any  event  think  of  an  instant  search  through 
the  mansion,  which  might  have  committed  her  safety,  or 
th  It  of  his  uncle.  "  But  I  will  to  the  hut,"  he  said — 
**  I  will  instantly  to  the  hut,  ascertain  her  share  in  this 
wild  and  dangerous  confederacy,  and  snatch  her  from 
ruin,  if  it  be  possible." 

As,  under  the  influence  of  the  resolution  which  he  had 
formed,  Everard  groped  his  way  through  the  gallery,  and 
reijjained  the  vestibule,  he  heard  his  name  called  by  the 
well-known  voice  of  VVildrake.  *'  What — ho  ! — hollo  ! 
— Colonel  Everard — Mark  Everard — it  is  dark  as  the 


WOODSTOCK. 


169 


devil's  mouth — speak — where  are  you  ? — Tl)e  witches 
are  keeping  tlieir  tielJisii  sabbaih  here,  as  1  think. — W  liere 
are  you  r" 

"  Here,  here  !"  answered  Everard.  "  Cease  your 
bawhng.     Tuin  to  tiie  leit,  and  you  will  meet  me." 

Guided  by  iiis  voice,  Wildrake  soon  a})pfc;arfcd,  with  a 
light  in  one  hand,  and  his  drawn  sword  in  the  other. 
"  Where  have  you  been  ?"  he  said — "  what  has  detained 
you  f — Here  are  Bletson  and  the  brute  Desboiough, 
ternfjed  out  of  their  lives,  and  Harrison  raving  mad, 
because  the  devil  will  not  be  civil  enough  to  rise  to  fi2;ht 
him." 

"Saw  or  heard  you  nothing  as  you  came  along .^"  said 
Everaid.  '*  Noihing,"  said  his  Iriend,  "  excepting  that 
when  1  first  entered  this  cursed  ruinous  labyrinth,  the 
liglit  was  stiuck  out  of  my  hand,  as  if  by  a  switc  h,  which, 
obliged    me  to   return  lor  another." 

"  I  must  cotne  by  a  horse  instantly,  AVildrake,  and 
another  for  thyself,  if  it  be  possible." 

*'  We  can  take  two  of  those  belonging  to  the  troopers," 
answered  Wildiake.  "  But  for  what  purpose  should  we 
run  away,  like  rats,  at  this  time  in  the  evening  C — Is  the 
house  falling  ?" 

"  I  cannot  answer  you,"  said  the  Colonel,  pushing 
forward  into  a  room  where  there  were  some  reujains  of 
furniture. 

Here  the  cavalier  took  a  more  strict  view  of  his  per- 
son, and  exclaimed  in  wonder,  "  What  the  devil  have 
you  l)een  fighting  with,  Markham,  that  has  bedizened  you 
after  this  sorry  fashion  .^" 

"  Fighting  !"   exclaimed  Everard. 

"  Yes,"  replied  his  trusty  attendant,  "  1  say  fighting. 
Look  at  youiself  in  the  mirror." 

He  did,  and  saw  he  was  covered  with  dust  and  blood. 
The  latter  proceeded  from  a  scratch  which  he  had  re- 
ceived in  the  throat,  as  he  struggled  to  extricate  himself. 
With  unaffected  alarm,  W^ildrake  undid  his  friend's  col- 
lar, and    with   eager  haste   proceeded   to  examine   the 

15        VOL.     1. 


170 


WOOn  STOCK. 


wound,  his  hands  trennbhng,  and  his  eyes  glistening  with 
appreliension  for  his  heiielactor's  life.  VV^hen,  in  spite  of 
Everard's  opposition,  he  had  examined  the  hurt  and  found 
it  so  trifling,  he  resumed  the  natural  vvildness  of  his  char- 
acter, perhaps  the  more  readily  that  he  iiad  felt  shame 
in  departing  from  it,  into  one  wijich  expressed  more 
feeling  than  he  would  be  thought  to  possess. 

"  ll  that  be  the  devil's  work,  Mark,"  said  he,  *'  the  foul 
fiend's  claws  are  not  nigh  so  formidable  as  they  are  re- 
presented ;  but  no  one  shall  say  that  your  blood  has  been 
shed  unrevenged,  while  Roger  Wildrake  was  by  your 
side.  Where  left  you  this  same  inip  f  I  will  back  to  the 
field  of  fight,  confront  hiiD  with  my  rapier,  and  were  his 
nails  tenpenny  aails,  and  his  teeth  as  long  as  those  of  a 
harrow,  he  shall  render  me  reason  for  the  injury  he  has 
done  you." 

"  Madness — madness  !"  exclaimed  Everard  ;  "  I  had 
this  trifling  hurt  by  a  fall — a  basin  and  towel  will  wipe 
it  away.  Meanwhile,  if  you  will  ever  do  me  kindness, 
get  the  troop-horses — command  them  for  the  service  of 
the  public,  in  the  name  of  his  Excellency  the  General. 
I  will  but  wash,  and  join  you  in  an  instant  before  the 
gate." 

"  Well,  I  will  serve  you,  Everard,  as  a  mute  serves  the 
Grand  Signior,  without  knowing  why  or  wherefore.  But 
will  you  go  without  seeing  these  people  below  ?" 

"  Without  seeing  any  one,"  said  Everard  ;  "lose  no 
time,  for  God's  sake." 

He  found  out  the  non-commissioned  officer,  and  de- 
manded the  horses  in  a  tone  of  authority,  to  which  the 
corporal  yielded  undisputed  obedience,  as  one  well 
aware  of  Colonel  Everard's  military  rank  and  conse- 
quence. So  all  was  in  a  minute  or  two  ready  for  the 
expedition. 


WOODSTOCK. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"  She  kneel'd,  and  saint-like 


171 


Cast  her  eyes  to  heaven,  and  pray'd  devoutly." 
'  King  Ht-nrij  VIII. 

CoLONKL  Everard's  departure  at  the  late  hour,  for  so 
it  was  tlien  thought  ol"  seven  in  the  evening,  excited  much 
specnlation.  I'here  was  a  gathering  of  menials  and  de- 
pendants in  the  outer  chamher,  or  liall,  for  no  one  doubt- 
ed that  his  sudden  departure  was  owing  to  his  having,  as 
they  expressed  it,  "  seen  something,"  and  all  desired  to 
know  how  a  man  of  such  acknowledged  courage  as  Eve- 
rard,  looked  under  the  awe  of  a  recent  apparition.  But 
he  gave  them  no  time  to  make  comments  ;  ior,  striding 
through  the  hall  wrapt  in  his  riding-suit,  he  threw  him- 
self on  horseback,  and  rode  furiously  through  the  Chase, 
towards  the  hut  of  the  keeper  Jo'ifie. 

It  was  the  disposition  of  Markhimi  Everard  to  be  hot, 
keen,  earnest,  impatient,  and  decisive  to  a  degree  of 
precipitation.  The  acquired  habits  \\hich  education  had 
taught,  and  which  the  strong  moral  and  religious  disci- 
pline of  his  sect  had  greatly  strengthened,  were  such  as 
to  enable  him  to  conceal,  as  well  as  to  check,  this  consti- 
tutional violence,  and  to  place  him  upon  his  guard  against 
indulging  it.  "  But  when  in  the  high  tide  of  violent  exci- 
tation, the  natural  impetuosity  of  the  young  soldier's  tem- 
per was  sometimes  apt  to  overcome  these  artificial  ob- 
stacles, and  then,  like  a  torrent  foaming  over  a  weir,  h 
became  more  furious,  as  if  in  revenge  for  the  constrained 
calm  which  it  had  been  for  some  time  obliged  to  assume. 
In  these  instances  he  was  accustomed  to  see  only  that 
point  to  which  his  thoughts  were  bent,  and  to  move 
straight  towards  it,  whether  a  moral  object,  or  the  storm- 
ing of  a  breach,  without  either  calculating,  or  even 
seeming  to  see,  the  difficulties  which  were  before  him. 


172  WOODSTOCK. 

At  present,  his  ruling  and  impelling  motive  was  to  de- 
tach his  beloved  cousin,  if  possible,  IVom  the  dangerous 
and  discreditable  machinations  in  which  he  suspected  her 
to  have  engaged,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  to  discover  that 
she  really  had  no  concern  with  these  stratagems.  He 
should  know  how  to  judge  of  that  in  some  measure,  he 
thought,  by  finding  her  present  or  absent  at  the  hut,  to- 
wards which  he  was  now  galloping.  He  had  read,  in- 
deed, in  some  ballad  or  minstrel's  tale,  of  a  singular 
deception  practised  on  a  jealous  old  man,  by  means  of  a 
subterranean  communication  between  his  house  and  that 
of  a  neighbour,  which  the  lady  in  question  made  use  of 
to  present  herself  in  the  two  places  alternately,  with  such 
speed,  and  so  much  address,  that,  after  repeated  exper- 
iments, the  dotard  was  deceived  into  the  opinion,  that  his 
wife,  and  the  lady  who  was  so  very  like  her,  and  to  whom 
his  neighbour  paid  so  much  attention,  were  two  different 
persons.  But  in  the  present  case  there  was  no  room  for 
such  a  deception  ;  the  distance  was  too  great,  and  as  he 
took  by  much  the  nearest  way  from  the  castle,  and  rode 
full  speed,  it  would  be  impossible  he  knew,  for  his  cousin, 
who  was  a  timorous  horse-woman  even  by  day-light,  to 
have  got  home  before  him. 

Her  father  might  indeed  be  displeased  at  his  interfer- 
ence ;  but  what  title  had  he  to  be  so  ? — Was  not  Alice 
Lee  the  near  relation  of  his  blood,  the  dearest  object  of 
his  heart,  and  would  he  now  abstain  from  an  effort  to  save 
her  from  the  consequences  of  a  silly  and  wild  conspiracy, 
because  the  old  knight's  spleen  might  be  awakened  by 
Everard's  making  his  appearance  at  their  present  dwel- 
ling contrary  to  his  commands  f  No.  He  would  endure 
the  old  man's  harsh  language,  as  he  endured  the  blast  of 
the  autumn  wind,  which  was  howling  around  him,  and 
swinging  the  crashing  branches  o.f  the  trees  under  which 
he  passed,  but  could  not  oppose,  or  even  retard  his 
journey. 

If  he  found  not  Alice,  as  he  had  reason  to  believe  she 
would  be  absent,  to  Sir  Henry  Lee  himself  he  would  ex- 
plain what  he  had  witnessed.     However  she  might  have< 


WOODSTOCK. 


178 


become  accessary  to  the  juggling  tricks  performed  at 
Woodstock,  he  could  not  but  think  it  was  vvhhout  her 
father's  knowledge,  so  severe  a  judge  was  the  old  knight 
of  female  propriety,  and  so  strict  an  assertor  of  female 
decorum.  He  would  take  the  same  opportunity,  he 
thought,  of  stating  to  him  the  well-grounded  hopes  he 
entertained,  that  his  dwelling  at  the  Lodge  might  be 
prolonged,  and  the  sequestrators  removed  from  the  royal 
mansion  and  domains,  by  other  means  than  those  of  the 
absurd  species  of  intimidation  which  seemed  to  be  resort- 
ed to,  to  scare  them  from  thence. 

All  this  seemed  to  be  so  much  within  the  line  of  his 
duty  as  a  relative,  that  it  was  not  until  he  halted  at  the 
door  of  the  Ranger's  hut,  and  threw  his  bridle  into  Wild- 
rake's  hand,  that  Everard  recollected  the  fiery,  high,  and 
unbending  character  of  Sir  Henry  Lee,  and  felt,  even 
when  his  fingers  were  on  the  latch,  a  reluctance  to  intrude 
himself  upon  the  presence  of  the  irritable  old  knight. 

But  there  was  no  time  for  hesitation.  Bevis,  who  had 
already  hayed  more  than  once  from  within  the  Lodge, 
was  growing  impatient,  and  Everard  had  but  just  time  to 
bid  Wildrake  hold  the  liorses  until  he  should  send  Joce- 
line  to  his  assistance,  when  old  Joan  unpinned  the  door, 
to  demand  who  was  witliout  at  that  time  of  the  night. 
To  have  attempted  anything  like  an  explanation  with 
poor  dame  Joan,  would  have  been  quite  hopeless  ;  the 
Colonel,  therefore,  put  her  gently  aside,  and  shaking 
himself  loose  from  the  hold  she  had  laid  on  his  cloak, 
entered  the  kitchen  of  Joceline's  dwelling.  Bevis,  who 
had  advanced  to  support  Joan  in  her  opposition,  hum- 
bled his  lion-port,  with  that  wonderful  instinct  which 
makes  his  race  remember  so  long  those  witli  whom  they 
have  been  familiar,  and  acknowjtdged  his  master's  rela- 
tive, by  doing  homage  in  his  fashion,  with  his  head  and 
tail. 

Colonel  Everard,  more  uncertain  in  liis  purpose  every 
moment  as  the  necessity  of  its  execution  drew  nigh,  stole 
over  the  floor  like  one  who  treads  in   a  sick   chamber, 

15*       VOL.    I. 


174 


WOODSTOCK. 


and  opening  the  door  of  the  interior  apartment  with  a 
slow  and  trembling  hand,  as  he  would  have  withdrawn 
the  curtains  of  a  dying  friend,  he  saw  within  the  scene 
which  w;,  are  about  to  describe. 

Sir  Henry  Lee  sat  in  a  wicker  arm-chair  by  the  fire. 
He  was  wrapped  in  a  cloak,  and  his  limbs  extended  on  a 
stool,  as  if  he  were  suffering  from  gout  or  indisposition. 
His  long  white  beard  flowing  over  the  dark-coloured  gar- 
ment, gave  him  more  the  appearance  of  a  hermit  than 
of  an  aged  soldier  or  man  of  quality  ;  and  that  character 
was  increased  by  the  deep  and  devout  attention  with 
which  he  listened  to  a  respectable  old  man,  whose  dilap- 
idated dress  showed  still  something  of  the  clerical  habit, 
and  who,  with  a  low,  but  full  and  deep  voice,  was  reading 
the  Evening  Service  according  to  the  Church  of  England. 
Alice  Lee  kneeled  at  the  feet  of  her  father,  and  made 
the  responses  with  a  voice  that  might  have  suited  the 
choir  of  angels  ;  and  a  modest  and  serious  devotion  which 
suited  the  melody  of  her  tone.  The  face  of  the  offi- 
ciating clergyman  would  have  been  good-looking,  had 
it  not  been  disfigured  with  a  black  patch  which  covered 
the  left  eye  and  a  part  of  his  face,  and  had  not  the  fea- 
tures which  were  visible  been  marked  with  the  traces  of 
care  and  suffering. 

When  Colonel  Everard  entered,  the  clergyman  raised 
his  finger,  as  cautioning  him  to  forbear  disturbing  the 
divine  service  of  the  evening,  and  pointed  to  a  seat ;  to 
which,  struck  deeply  with  the  scene  he  had  witnessed, 
the  intruder  stole  with  as  light  a  step  as  possible,  and 
knelt  devoutly  down  as  one  of  the  little  congregation. 

Everard  had  been  bred  by  his  father  what  was  called 
a  Puritan  ;  a  member  of  a  sect,  who,  in  the  primitive 
sense  of  the  word,  were  persons  that  did  not  except 
against  the  doctrines  of  the  Church  of  England,  or  even 
in  other  respects  against  its  hierarchy,  but  chiefly  dissent- 
ed fi'om  it  on  the  subject  of  certain  ceremonies,  habits, 
and  forms  of  ritual,  which  were  insisted  upon  by  the  cele- 
brated and  unforttmate  Laud,  with  ill-timed  tenacity. 
But  even  if,  from  the  habits  of  his  father's  house,  Ever- 


WOODSTOCK. 


175 


ard's  opinions  had  been  diametrically  opposed  to  the 
doctrines  of  the  English  Church,  he  must  have  been 
reconciled  to  them  by  the  regularity  with  which  the  ser- 
vice was  performed  in  his  uncle's  family  at  Woodstock, 
who,  during  tlie  blossom  of  his  fortunes,  generally  had  a 
chaplain   residing   in  the  Lodge  for  that  special  purpose. 

Yet  deep  as  was  the  habitual  venetation  with  which  he 
heard  the  impressive  service  of  the  Church,  Everard's 
eyes  could  not  help  straying  towards  Alice,  and  his 
thoughts  wandering  to  the  purpose  of  his  presence  there. 
She  seemed  to  have  recognized  him  at  once,  for  there 
was  a  deeper  glow  than  usual  upon  her  check,  her  fin- 
gers tremijied  as  they  turned  the  leaves  of  her  prayer 
book,  and  her  voice,  lately  as  firm  as  it  was  melodious, 
faltered  when  she  repeated  the  reponses.  It  appeared 
to  Everard,  as  far  as  he  could  collect  by  the  stolen  glances 
which  he  directed  towards  her,  that  the  character  of  her 
beauty,  as  well  as  of  her  outward  appearance,  had  chang- 
ed  with  her  fortunes. 

The  beautiful  and  high-born  young  lady  had  now  ap- 
proached as  nearly  as  possible  to  the  brown  stuff  dress 
of  an  ordinary  village  maiden  ;  but  what  she  had  lost  in 
gaiety  of  appearance,  she  had  gained  as  it  seemed  in 
dignity.  Her  beautiful  light-brown  tresses,  now  folded 
around  her  head,  and  only  curled  where  nature  had  so 
arranged  them,  gave  her  an  air  of  simplicity,  which  did 
not  exist  when  her  head-dress  showed  the  skill  of  a  cu- 
rious tirewoman.  A  light  joyous  air,  with  something  of 
a  hujnorous  expression  which  seemed  to  be  looking  tor 
amusement,  had  vanished  before  the  touch  of  affliction, 
and  a  calm  melancholy  supplied  its  place,  which  seemed 
on  the  watch  to  administer  comfort  to  others.  Perhaps 
the  former  arch,  though  innocent  expression  of  counte- 
nance, wns  uppermost  in  her  lover's  recollection,  when 
he  concluded  that  Alice  had  acted  a  part  in  the  disturb- 
ances which  had  take  place  at  the  Lodge.  It  is  certain, 
that  when  he  now  looked  upon  her,  it  was  with  shame 
for  having  nourisiied  such  a  suspicion,  and  the  resolu- 
tion to  believe   rather   that  the  devil  had  innlated  her 


1*7^  WOODSTOCK. 

voice,  than  that  the  creature,  who  seemed  so  much  above 
the  feelings  of  this  world,  and  so  nearly  allied  to  the  pu- 
rity of  the  next,  should  have  had  the  indelicacy  to  mingle 
in  such  manoeuvres  as  he  himself  and  others  had  been 
subjected  to. 

These  thoughts  shot  through  his  mind,  in  spite  of  the 
impropriety  of  indulging  them  at  such  a  moment.  Tho 
service  now  approached  the  close  ;  and  a  good  deal  to 
Colonel  Everard's  surprise  as  well  as  confusion,  the  offi- 
ciating priest,  in  firm  and  audible  tone,  and  with  every 
attribute  of  dignity,  prayed  to  the  Almighty  to  bless  and 
preserve  "  Our  Sovereign  Lord,  King  Charles,  the  law- 
ful and  undoubted  King  of  these  realms."  The  petition 
(in  those  days  most  dangerous)  was  pronounced  with  a 
full,  raised,  and  distinct  articulation,  as  if  the  priest  chal- 
lenged all  Vvho  heard  him  to  dissent  if  they  dared.  If 
the  republican  oiBcer  did  not  assent  to  the  petition,  be 
thought  at  least  it  was  no  time  to  protest  against  it. 

The  service  was  concluded  in  the  usual  manner,  and 
the  little  congregation  arose.  It  now  included  Wildrake, 
vvho  had  entered  daring  the  latter  prayer,  and  was  the 
first  of  the  party  to  speak,  running  up  to  the  priest,  and 
shaking  him  by  the  hand  most  heartily,  swearing  at  the 
same  time,  that  he  truly  rejoiced  to  see  liim.  The  good 
clergyman  returned  the  pressure  with  a  smile,  observing 
he  should  have  believed  his  asseveration  without  an  oath. 
in  the  meanwhile.  Colonel  Everard  approached  his  un- 
cle's seat,  made  a  deep  inclination  of  respect,  first  to  Sir 
Henry  Lee,  and  then  to  Alice,  whose  colour  now  spread 
from  her  cheek  to  her  brow  and  bosom. 

"  I  have  to  crave  your  excuse,"  said  the  Colonel  with 
hesitation,  "  for  having  chosen  for  my  visit,  which  I  dare 
not  hope  would  be  very  agreeable  at  any  lime,  a  season 
most  particularly  unsuitable." 

"  So  far  from  it,  nephew,"  answered  Sir  Henry,  with 
much  more  mildness  of  manner  *'~an  Everard  had  dared 
to  expect,  "  that  your  visits  at  other  times  would  be 
much  more  welcome,  had  we  the  fortune  to  see  you  often 
at  our  hours  of  worship." 


WOODSTOCK. 


177 


"  I  hope  the  time  will  soon  come,  sir,  when  English- 
men ol' all  sects  and  denominations,"  replitd  Everard, 
"  will  be  liee  in  conscience  to  worship  in  common  the 
great  Father,  whom  they  all  after  their  manner  call  by 
that  atfeclionale  name." 

"1  hope  so  too,  nephew,"  said  the  old  man,  in  the 
same  unaltered  tone  ;  "  and  we  will  not  at  present  dis- 
pute, whether  you  would  have  the  Church  of  England 
coalesce  with  the  Conventicle,  or  the  Conventicle  con- 
form to  the  Church.  It  was,  I  ween,  not  to  settle  jar- 
ring creeds,  that  you  have  honoured  our  poor  dwelling, 
where  to  say  the  truth,  we  dared  scaice  have  expected 
to  see  you  again,  so  coarse  was  our  last  welcome." 

"  1  should  be  happy  to  believe,"  said  Colonel  Everard, 
hesitating,  "  that — that — in  short  my  presence  was  not 
now  so  unwelcome  here  as  on  that  occasion." 

*'  Nephew,"  said  -Sir  Henry,  "  1  will  be  frank  with 
you.  When  you  were  last  here,  I  thought  you  had  stolen 
from  me  a  precious  pearl,  which  at  one  lime  it  would 
have  been  my  pride  and  happiness  to  have  bestowed  on 
you  ;  but  which,  being  such  as  you  have  been  of  late,  I 
would  bury  in  the  depths  of  the  earth  rather  than  give 
to  your  keeping.  This  somewhat  chafed,  as  honest  VVill 
says,  '  the  rash  humour  which  my  mother  gave  me.'  I 
thought  1  was  robbed,  and  I  thought  I  saw  the  robber 
before  me.  1  am  mistaken — I  am  not  robbed  ;  and  the 
attempt  without  the  deed  1  can  pardon." 

"  1  would  not  willingly  seek  ofTence  in  your  words,  sir," 
said  Colonel  Everard,  "  when  their  general  purport 
sounds  kind  ;  but  1  can  protest  before  Heaven,  that  my 
views  and  wishes  towards  you  and  your  family  are  as 
void  of  selfish  hopes  and  selfish  ends,  as  they  are  fraught 
with  love  to  you  and  to  yours." 

*'  Let  us  hear  them,  man  ;  we  are  not  much  accus- 
tomed to  good  wishes  now-a-days  :  and  their  very  rarity 
will  make  them  welcome." 

**  I  would  willingly.  Sir  Henry,  since  you  might  not 
choose  me  to  give  you  a  more  affectionate  name,  convert 
those   wishes  into  something  effectual   for  your  comfort. 


178  WOODSTOCK. 

Tour  fate,  as  the  world  now  stands,  is  bad,  and,  1  fear, 
like  to  be  worse." 

"  Worse  than  I  expect,  it  cannot  be.  Nephew,  I  do 
not  shrink  before  my  change  of  fortunes.  1  sliall  wear 
coarser  clothes, — 1  sliall  feed  on  more  ordinary  food, — 
men  will  not  doff  their  cap  to  me  as  they  were  wont, 
when  I  was  the  great  and  the  wealthy.  VVhat  of  that  ? 
Old  Harry  Lee  loved  his  honour  better  than  his  title, 
his  faith  better  than  his  land  and  lordship.  Havel  not 
seen  the  30th  of  January  ?  1  am  neither  Philomath  nor 
astrologer  ;  but  old  Will  teaches  me,  that  when  green 
leaves  fall  winter  is  at  hand,  and  that  darkness  will  come 
when  the  sun  sets." 

"Bethink  you,  sir,"  said  Colonel  Everard,  "if,  with- 
out any  submission  asked,  any  oalh  taken,  any  engage- 
ment imposed,  express  or  tacit,  excepting  that  you  are 
not  to  excite  disturbances  in  the  public  peace,  you  can 
be  restored  to  your  residence  in  the  Lodge,  and  your 
usual  fortunes  and  perquisites  there — 1  have  great  rea- 
son to  hope  this  may  be  permitted,  if  not  expressly,  at 
least  on  sufferance." 

"  Yes,  I  understand  you.  I  am  to  be  treated  like  the 
royal  coin,  marked  with  the  ensign  of  the  Rump  to  make 
it  pass  current,  although  J  am  too  old  to  have  the  royal 
insignia  grinded  off  from  me  ?  Kinsman,  1  will  have  none 
of  this.  I  h  ive  lived  at  the  Lodge  too  long  ;  and  let  me 
tell  you,  I  had  left  it  in  scorn  long  since,  but  for  the 
orders  of  one  whom  I  mny  yet  live  to  do  service  to.  I 
will  take  nothing  from  the  usurpers,  be  their  name  Rump 
or  Cromwell — be  they  one  devil  or  legion — 1  will  not 
take  from  them  an  old  cap  to  cover  my  grey  hairs — a 
cast  cloak  to  protect  my  frail  limbs  from  the  cold. 
They  shall  not  say  they  have  by  their  unwilling  bounty, 
made  Abraham  rich — ]  will  live,  as  1  will  die,  the  Loyal 
Lee. 

"  May  I  hope  you  will  think  of  it,  sir  ;  and  that  you 
will,  perhaps,  considering  what  slight  submission  is  ask- 
ed, give  me  a  belter  answer  .'*" 


WOODSTOCK. 


179 


"  Sir,  if  I  retract  my  opinion,  which  is  not  my  wont, 
you  shall  hear  of  it. — And  now,  cousin,  have  you  more 
to  say  f  We  keep  that  worthy  clergyman  in  the  outer 
room." 

"  Something  T  had  to  say — something  touching  my 
cousin  Alice,"  said  Everard,  with  embarrassment;  "  but 
I  fear  that  the  prejudices  of  both  are  so  strong  against 
me " 

"  Sir,  I  dare  turn  my  daughter  loose  to  you — I  will  go 
join  the  good  doctor  in  dame  Joan's  apartment.  I  am 
not  unwilling  that  you  should  know  that  the  girl  hath,  in 
all  reasonable  sort,  the  exercise  of  her  free  will." 

He  withdrew,  and  left  the  cousins  together. 

Colotiel  Everard  advanced  to  Alice,  and  w^as  about  to 
take  her  hand.  She  drew  back,  took  the  seat  which  her 
fatlier  had  occupied,  and  pointed  out  to  him  one  at  some 
distance. 

"  Are  we  then  so  much  estranged^  my  dearest  Alice  .^" 
he  said. 

"  We  will  speak  of  that  presently,"  she  replied.  *'  In 
the  first  place  let  me  ask  the  cause  of  your  visit  here  at 
so  late  an  hour." 

"  You  lieard,"  said  Everard,  "  what  I  staled  to  your 
father  ?" 

"  I  did  ;  but  that  seems  to  have  been  only  part  of 
your  errand — something  there  seemed  to  be  which  ap- 
phed  particularly  to  me." 

"  It  was  a  fancy — a  strange  mistake,"  answered  Eve- 
rard.  "  INJay  I  ask  if  you  have  been  abroad  this  evening.^" 

"  Certainly  not,"  she  replied.     "  1  have  small  temp- 
tation  to  wander  from   my  present  home,   poor  as  it  is  ; 
and    whilst   here,  1  have  important  duties   to  discharge 
But  why  does  Colonel  Everard   ask  so  strange   a  ques- 
tion ?" 

"Tell  me  in  turn,  why  your  cousin  Markham  has  lost 
the  name  of  friendship  and  kindred,  and  even  of  some 
nearer  feeling,  and  then  I  will  answer  you,  Alice. 

*'  It  is  soon  ^answered,"  she  said.  "When  you  drew 
your  sword  against  my  father's  cause — almost  against  bis 


180  WOODSTOCK. 

person — I  stiulied,  more  than  I  should  have  done,  lo  find 
excuse  for  you.  i  knew,  that  is,  I  thought  I  knew,  your 
high  feelings  of  public  duty — I  knew  the  opinions  in 
which  you  have  been  bred  up  ;^  and  1  said,  I  will  not, 
even  for  this,  cast  hiin  off — he  opposes  his  King  because 
he  is  loyal  to  liis  country.  You  endeavouied  to  avert  the 
great  and  concluding  tragedy  of  the  30th  of  January  ; 
and  it  confirmed  u)e  in  my  opinion,  that  Markham  Ever- 
ard  inight  be  misled  ;  but  could  not  be  base  or  selfisb.'* 

"  And  what  has  changed  your  opinion,  Alice  ?  or  who 
dare,"  said  Everard,  reddening,  "  attach  such  epithets 
to  the  name  of  Markham  Everard  ?" 
,  "  I  am  no  suliject,"  she  said,  "  for  exercising  your 
valour,  Colonel  Everard,  nor  do  I  mean  to  offend.  But 
you  will  find  enough  of  others  who  will  avow,  that  Colo- 
nel Everard  is  truckling  to  the  usurper  Cromwell,  and 
that  all  his  fair  pretexts  of  forwarding  his  country's  lib- 
erties, are  but  a  screen  for  driving  a  bargain  with  a  suc- 
cessful encroacher,  and  obtaining  the  best  terms  he  can 
for  himself  and  his  family." 

"  For  myself— Never  !" 

"  But  for  your  family  you  have — Yes,  T  am  well  as- 
sured that  you  have  pointed  out  to  the  military  tyrant,  the 
way  in  which  he  and  his  satraps  may  master  the  govern- 
ment. Do  you  think  my  father  or  I  would  accept  an 
asylum  purchased  at  the  price  of  England's  liberty  and 
your  honour  ?" 

*'  Gracious  Heaven,  Alice,  what  is  this  ?  you  accuse 
me  of  pursuing  the  very  course  which  so  lately  had  your 
approbation  !" 

*'  When  you  spoke  with  authority  of  your  father,  and 
recommended  our  submission  to  the  existing  government, 
such  as  it  was,  I  own  I  thought — that  my  father's  grey 
head  might,  without  dishonour,  have  remainerl  under  the 
roof  where  it  had  so  long  been  sheltered.  But  did  your 
father  sanction  your  becoming  the  adviser  of  yonder  am- 
bitious soldier  to  a  new  course  of  innovation,  and  his 
abettor  in  the  establishment  of  a  new  species  of  tyranny.^ 
— It  is  one  thing  to  submit   to  oupression,  another  to  be 


WOODSTOCK. 


181 


the  assent  of  tyrants — And  O,  Markham — their  blood* 
hoLind^!" 

"  How  !  blood-hound  ? — what  mean  you  ? — I  own  it 
is  true  I  could  see  with  content  the  wounds  of  this  bleeding 
country  stanched,  even  at  the  expense  of  beholding  Crom- 
well, after  his  matchless  rise,  take  a  yet  farther  step  to 
power — but  to  be  his  blood-hound  !  What  is  your  mean- 
ing  !" 

"  It  is  false,  then  ? — I  thought  I  could  swear  it  had  been 
false." 

"  What,  in  the  name  of  God,  is  it  you  ask  ?" 

"  It  is  false  that  you  are  engaged  to  betray  the  young 
King  of  Scotland  f" 

"  Betray  him  !  /betray  him,  or  any  fugitive  ?  Never  ! 
I  would  he  were  well  out  of  En2;land — I  would  lend  him 
my  aid  to  escape,  were  he  in  the  house  at  this  instant  ; 
and  think  I  did  his  enemies  good  service,  by  preventing 
their  soiling  themselves  with  his  blood — but  betray  him, 
never  !" 

"  I  knew  it — I  was  sure  it  was  impossible.  Oh,  be 
yet  more  honest ;  disengage  yourself  from  yonder  gloomy 
and  ambitious  soldier  !  Shun  him  and  his  schemes,  which 
are  formed  in  injustice,  and  can  only  be  realized  in  yet 
more  blood." 

*'  Believe  me,"  replied  Everard,  "  that  I  choose  the 
line  of  policy  best  be6tting  the  times." 

"  Choose  that,"  she  said,  "  which  best  befits  duty, 
Markham — which  best  befits  truth  and  honour.  Do  your 
duty,  and  let  Providence  decide  the  rest. — Farewell  ! 
we  tempt  my  father's  pnlience  too  far — you  know  his 
temper — farewell,  Markham." 

She  extended  her  hand,  which  he  pressed  to  his  lips, 
and  left  the  apartment.  A  silent  how  to  his  uncle,  and  a 
sign  to  Wildrake,  whom  he  found  in  the  kitchen  of  the 
cabin,  were  the  only  tokens  of  recognition  exhibited,  and 
leaving  the  hut,  he  was  soon  mounted,  and,  with  his  com- 
panion, advanced  on  his  return  to  the  Lodge. 

16       VOL.    I. 


182  WOODSTOCK. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


-Deeds  are  done  on  earth, 


Which  have  their  punishment  ere  the  earth  closes 

Upon  the  perpetrators.     Be  it  the  working 

Of  the  remorse-stirr'd  fancy,  or  the  vision, 

Distinct  and  real,  of  unearthly  being, 

All  ages  wiUiess,  that  beside  the  couch 

Of  the  fell  homicide  oft  stalks  the  ghost 

Of  him  he  slew,  and  shows  the  shadowy  wound. 

Old  Play. 

EvERARD  had  come  to  Joceline's  Lodge  as  fast  as  horse 
could  bear  him,  and  with  the  same  impetuosity  of  purpose 
as  of  speed.  He  saw  no  choice  in  the  course  to  be  pur- 
sued, and  felt  in  his  own  imagination  the  strongest  right 
to  direct,  and  even  reprove,  his  cousin,  beloved  as  she 
was,  on  account  of  the  dangerous  machinations  with  which 
she  appeared  to  have  connected  herself.  He  returned 
slowly,  and  in  a  very  different  mood. 

Not  only  had  Alice,  prudent  as  beautiful,  appeared 
completely  free  from  the  weakness  of  conduct  which 
seemed  to  give  him  some  authority  over  her,  but  her 
views  of  policy,  if  less  practicable,  were  so  much  more 
direct  and  noble  than  his  own,  as  led  him  to  question 
whether  he  had  not  compromised  himself  too  rashly  with 
Cromwell,  even  although  the  state  of  the  country  was  so 
greatly  divided  and  torn  by  faction,  that  the  promotion  of 
the  General  to  the  possession  of  the  executive  govern- 
ment seemed  the  only  chance  of  escaping  a  renewal  of 
the  Civil  War.  The  more  exalted  and  purer  sentiments 
of  Alice  lowered  him  in  his  own  eyes  ;  and  though  un- 
shaken in  his  opinion,  that  it  were  better  the  vessel 
should  be  steered  by  a  pilot  having  no  good  title  to  the 
office,  than  that  she  should  run  upon  the  breakers,  he 
felt  that  he  was  not  espousing  the  most  direct,  manly, 
and  disinterested  side  of  the  question. 


WOODSTOCK.  3  83 

As  he  rode  on,  immersed  in  these  unpleasant  contem- 
plations, and  consid#rably  lessened  in  his  own  esteem  by 
what  had  happened,  Wildrake,  who  rode  by  his  side,  and 
was  no  friend  to  long  silence,  began  to  enter  into  conver- 
sation. "  I  have  been  thinking,  Mark,"  said  he,  "  that 
if  you  and  1  had  been  called  to  the  bar — as,  by  the  by, 
has  been  in  danger  of  happening  to  me  in  more  senses 
than  one — I  say,  had  we  become  barristers,  1  would  have 
had  the  better  oiled  tongue  of  the  two — the  fairer  art  of 
persuasion." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  replied  Everard,  "though  1  never  heard 
thee  use  any,  save  to  induce  an  usurer  to  lend  thee  mon- 
ey, or  a  taverner  to  abate  a  reckoning." 

"  And  yet  this  day,  or  rather  night,  I  could  have,  as  I 
think,  made  a  conquest  which  baffled  you." 

"  Indeed  .'*"  said  the  Colonel,  becoming  attentive. 

"  Why,  look  you,"  said  Wildrake,  "  it  was  a  main  ob- 
ject with  you  to  induce  Mistress  Alice  Lee — By  Heaven, 
she  is  an  exquisite  creature — 1  approve  of  your  taste, 
Mark — I  say,  you  desired  to  persuade  her,  and  the  stout 
old  Trojan  her  father,  to  consent  and  return  to  the  Lodge, 
and  live  there  quietly,  and  under  connivance,  like  gen- 
tlefolk, instead  of  lodging  in  a  hut  hardly  fit  to  harbour 
a  Tom  of  Bedlam." 

"  Thou  art  right ;  such,  indeed,  was  a  great  part  of  my 
object  in  this  visit,"    answered  Everard. 

"  But,  perhaps,  you  also  expected  to  visit  there  your- 
self, and  so  keep  a  watch  over  pretty  Mistress  Lee — eh  ?" 

"  I  never  entertained  so  selfish  a  thought,"  said  Eve- 
rard ;  "  and  if  this  nocturnal  disturbance  at  the  mansion 
were  explained  and  ended,  T would  instantly  take  my 
departure." 

"  Your  friend  Noll  would  expect  something  more  from 
you,"  said  Wildrake — "  he  would  expect,  in  case  the 
Knight's  reputation  for  loyalty  should  draw  any  of  our 
poor  exiles  and  wanderers  about  the  Lodge,  that  you 
should  be  on  the  watch,  and  ready  to  snap  them.  In  a 
word — as  far  as  I  can  understand  his  long-winded  speech- 
es— he  would  have  Woodstock  a  trap,  your  uncle  and  his 


184  WOODSTOCK. 

pretty  daughter  the  bait  of  toasted  cheese — craving  your 
Chloe's  pardon  for  the  comparison-*-you  the  spring-fall 
which  should  bar  their  escape — his  Lordship  himself 
beiug  the  great  grimalkin  to  whom  they  are  to  be  given 
over  to  be  devoured." 

"  Dared  Cromwell  mention  this  to  thee  in  express 
terms  ?"  said  Everard,  pulling  up  his  horse,  and  stopping 
in  the  midst  of  the  road. 

"  Nciy,  not  in  express  terms,  which  I  do  not  believe 
he  ever  used  in  his  life — you  might  as  well  expect  a 
drunken  man  to  go  straight  forward  ;  but  he  insinuated  as 
much  to  me,  and  indicated  that  you  might  deserve  well 
of  him — ^^Gatzo — the  damnable  proposal  sticks  in  my 
throat — by  betraying  our  noble  and  rightful  Kin^,  (here 
he  pulled  off  his  hat,)  whom  God  grant  in  health  and 
wealth  long  to  reign,  as  the  worthy  clergyman  says, 
though  I  fear  just  now  his  Majesty  is  both  sick  and  sorry, 
and   never  a  penny  in  his  pouch  to  boot." 

"  This  tallies  with  what  Alice  hinted,"  said  Everard  ; 
"  but  how  could  she  know  it  ^  didst  thou  give  her  any 
hint  of  such  a  thing  ?" 

"  I  ?"  replied  the  cavalier,  "  I,  who  never  saw  Mistress 
Alice  in  my  life  till  to-night,  and  then  only  for  an  instant 
— zooks,  man,  how  is  that  possible  .^" 

"  True,"  replied  Everard,  and  seemed  lost  in  thought. 
At  length  he  spoke — "  I  should  call  Cromwell  to  account 
tor  his  bad  opinion  of  me  ;  for  even  though  not  serious- 
ly expressed,  but,  as  I  am  convinced  it  was,  with  the  sole 
view  of  proving  you,  and  perhaps  myself,  it  was,  never- 
theless, a  misconstruction  to  be  resented." 

"  I'll  carry  a  cartel  for  you,  with  all  my  heart  and  soul," 
said  Wildrake  ;  "  and  turn  out  with  his  godliness's  se- 
cond, with  as  good  will  as  I  ever  drank  a  glass  of  sack." 

"  Pshaw,"  replied  Everard,  "  those  in  his  high  place 
fight  no  singular  combats.— But  tell  me,  Roger  Wildrake, 
didst  thou  thyself  think  me  capable  of  the  falsehood  and 
treachery  implied  in  such  a  message  ?" 

"  1  ?"  exclaimed  Wildrake. — "  Markham  Everard, 
you  have  been  my  early  friend,  my  constant  benefactor. 


WOODSTOCK.  185 

When  Colchester  was  reduced,  you  saved  me  from  the 
gallows,  and  since  that  thou  hast  twenty  times  saved  me 
from  starving.  B|^t,  by  Heaven,  if  1  thought  you  capa- 
ble of  such  villany  as  your  General  recommended, — by 
yonder  blue  sky,  and  all  the  works  of  creation  which  it 
bends  over,  I  would  stab  you  with  my  own  hand  !" 

"  Death,"  replied  Everard,  "  I  should  indeed  de- 
serve, but  not  from  you  perhaps  ; — but  fortunately,  I 
cannot,  if  I  would,  be  guilty  of  the  treachery  you  would 
punish.  Know  that  I  had  this  day  secret  notice,  and  from 
Cromwell  himself,  that  the  young  man  has  escaped  by  sea 
from  Bristol." 

"  Now^  God  Almighty  be  blessed,  who  protected  him 
through  so  many  dangers  ;"  exclaimed  Wildrake. — 
"  Huzza  ! — Up  hearts,  cavaliers! — Hey  for  cavaliers ! — 
God  bless  King  Charles  !— Moon  and  stars,  catch  my 
hat !" — and  he  threw  it  up  as  high  as  he  could  in  the  air. 
The  celestial  bodies  which  he  invoked  did  not  receive  the 
present  despatched  to  them  ;  but,  as  in  the  case  of  Sir 
Henry  Lee's  scabbard,  an  old  gnarled  oak  became  a  se- 
cond time  the  receptacle  of  a  waif  and  stray  of  loyal  en- 
thusiasm. Wildrake  looked  rather  foolish  at  the  circum- 
stance, and  his  friend  took  the  opportunity  of  admonishing 
him. 

"  Art  thou  not  ashamed  to  bear  thee  so  hke  a  school- 
boy r 

"  Why,"  said  Wildrake,  "  I  have  but  sent  a  Puri- 
tan's hat  upon  a  loyal  errand.  1  laugh  to  think  how 
many  of  the  school-boys  thou  talk'st  of  will  be  cheated 
into  climbing  the  pollard  next  year,  expecting  to  find 
the  nest  of  some  unknown  bird  in  yonder  unmeasured 
margin  of  felt." 

"  Hush  now,  for  God's  sake,  and  let  us  speak  calm- 
ly," said  Everard.  "  Charles  has  escaped,  and  I  am  glad 
of  it.  I  would  willingly  have  seen  him  on  his  father's 
throne  by  composition,  but  not  by  the  force  of  the  Scot- 
tish army,  and  the  incensed  and  vengeful  royalists " 

16'^       VOL      I. 


186 


WOODSTOCK. 


"  Master  Markham  Everard,"  began  the  cavalier,  in- 
terrupting him 

"  Nay,  hush,  dear  Wildrake,"  said  Everard  ;  "  let  us 
not  dispute  a  point  on  which  we  cannot  agree,  and  give 
me  leave  to  go  on. — I  say,  since  the  young  man  has  es- 
caped, Cromwell's  offensive  and  injurious  stipulation  falls 
to  the  ground  ;  and  I  see  not  why  my  uncle  and  his  fam- 
ily should  not  again  enter  their  own  house,  under  the 
same  terms  of  connivance  as  many  other  royalists.  What 
may  be  incumbent  on  me  is  different,  nor  can  1  determine 
my  course  until  I  have  an  interview  with  the  General, 
which,  as  I  think,  will  end  in  his  confessing  that  he  threw 
in  this  offensive  proposal  to  sound  us  both.  It  is  much 
in  his  manner  ;  for  he  is  blunt,  and  never  sees  or  feels 
the  punctilious  honour  which  the  gallants  of  the  day 
stretch  to  such  delicacy." 

"  I'll  acquit  him  for  having  any  punctilio  about  him," 
said  Wildrake,  "  either  touching  honour  or  honesty. — 
Now  to  comeback  to  where  we  started. — Supposing  you 
were  not  to  reside  in  person  at  the  Lodge,  and  to  forbear 
even  visiting  there  unless  on  invitation,  when  such  a  thing 
can  be  brought  about,  I  tell  you  frankly,  I  think  your  un- 
cle and  his  daughter  might  be  induced  to  come  back  to 
the  Lodge,  and  reside  there  as  usual.  At  least  the 
clergyman,  that  worthy  old  cock,  gave  me  to  hope  as 
much." 

"  He  had  been  hasty  in  bestowing  his  confidence,"  said 
Everard. 

"  True,"  replied  Wildrake  ;  "  he  confided  in  me  at 
once  ;  for  he  instantly  saw  my  regard  for  the  church.  I 
thank  Heaven  that  I  never  passed  a  clergyman  in  canoni- 
cals without  pulling  my  hat  off — (and  thou  knowest,  the 
most  desperate  duel  1  ever  fought  was  with  young  Gray- 
less  of  the  Inner  Temple,  for  taking  the  wall  of  the  Rev- 
erend Dr.  Bunce.) — Ah,  1  can  gain  a  chaplain's  ear 
instantly.  Gadzooks.  they  know  whom  they  have  to  trust 
to  in  such  a  one  as  L" 

"  Dost  thou  think  then,"  said  Colonel  Everard,  "  or 
rather  does  this  clergyman  think,  that  if  they  were  secure 


,     WOODSTOCK.  187 

of  intrusion  from  me,  the  family  would  return  to  the 
Lodge,  supposing  the  intruding  Commissioners  gone,  and 
this  nocturnal  disturbance  explained  and  ended  ?" 

"  The  old  Knight,"  answered  Wildrake,  "  may  be 
wrought  upon  by  the  Doctor  to  return,  if  he  is  secure 
against  intrusion.  As  for  disturbances,  the  stout  old  boy, 
so  far  as  I  can  learn  in  two  minutes'  conversation,  laughs 
at  all  this  turmoil  as  the  work  of  mere  imagination,  the 
consequence  of  the  remorse  of  their  own  evil  confiden- 
ces ;  and  says  that  goblin  or  devil  was  never  heard  at 
Woodstock,  until  it  became  the  residence  of  such  men  as 
they,  who  have  now  usurped  the  possession." 

"  There  is  more  than  imagination  in  it,"  said  Ever- 
ard.  '*  I  have  personal  reason  to  know  there  is  some 
conspiracy  carrying  on,  to  render  the  house  untenantable 
by  the  Commissioners.  I  acquit  my  uncle  of  accession 
to  such  a  silly  trick  ;  but  I  must  see  it  ended  ere  1  can 
agree  to  his  and  my  cousin's  residing  where  such  a  con- 
federacy exists  ;  for  they  are  likely  to  be  considered  as 
the  contrivers  of  such  pranks,  be  the  actual  agent  who  he 
may." 

"  With  reverence  to  your  better  acquaintance  with  the 
gentleman,  Everard,  1  should  rather  suspect  the  old 
father  of  Puritans  (I  beg  your  pardon  again)  has  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  business  ;  and  if  so,  Lucifer  will 
never  look  near  the  true  old  Knight's  beard,  nor  abide  a 
glance  of  yonder  maiden's  innocent  blue  eyes.  1  will  up- 
liold  them  as  safe  as  pure  gold  in  a  miser's  chest." 

"  Sawest  thou  aught  thyself,  which  makes  thee  think 
thus  ?" 

"  Not  a  qnill  of  the  devil's  pinion  saw  I,"  replied 
Wildrake.  "  He  supposes  himself  too  secure  of  an  old 
cavalier,  who  must  steal,  hang,  or  drown  in  the  long  run, 
so  he  gives  himself  no  trouble  to  look  after  the  assured 
booty.  But  J  heard  the  serving-fellows  prate  of  what 
they  had  seen  and  heard  ;  and  though  their  tales  were 
confused  enough,  yet  if  there  was  any  truth  among  them 
at  all, I  should  say  the  devil  must  have  been  in  the  dance. 


188 


WOODSTOCK. 


— But,  hollo  !  here  comes  some  one  upon  us. — Stand, 
friend — who  art  thou  ?" 

"  A  poor  day-lahourer  in  the  great  work  of  England 
— Joseph  Tomkins  by  name — Secretary  to  a  godly  and 
well-endowed  leader  in  this  poor  Christian  army  of  Eng- 
land, called  General  Harrison." 

"  What  news,  Master  Tomkins  ?"  said  Everard  ; 
"  and  why  are  you  on  the  road  at  this  late  hour  ?" 

"  I  speak  to  the  worthy  Colonel  Everard,  as  1  judge," 
said  Tomkins  ;  "  and  truly  I  am  glad  of  meeting  your 
honour. — Heaven  knows,  I  need  such  assistance  as 
yours. — O  worthy  master  Ev^erard  ! — Here  has  been  a 
sounding  of  trumpets,  and  a  breaking  of  vials,  and  a 
pouring  forth,  and " 

"  Pr'ythee  tell  me,  in  brief,  what  is  the  matter — where 
is  thy  master — and,  in  a  word,  what  has  happened  f" 

"  My  master  is  close  by,  parading  it  in  the  little  mead- 
ow, beside  the  hugeous  oak,  which  is  called  by  the  name 
of  the  late  Man  ;  ride  but  two  steps  forward,  and  you 
may  see  him  walking  swiftly  to  and  fro,  advancing  all  the 
while  the  naked  weapon." 

Upon  proceeding  as  directed,  but  with  as  little  noise 
as  possible,  they  descried  a  man,  whom  of  coursg  they 
concluded  must  be  Harrison,  walking  to  and  fro  beneath 
the  King's  Oak,  as  a  sentinel  under  arms,  but  with  more 
wildness  of  demeanour.  The  tramp  of  the  horses  did 
not  escape  his  ear  ;  and  they  heard  him  call  out  as  if  at 
the  head  of  the  brigade — "  Lower  pikes  against  cavalry  ! 
— Here  comes  Prince  Rupert — Stand  fast,  and  you  shall 
turn  them  aside,  as  a  bull  would  toss  a  cur-dog. — Lower 
your  pikes  still,  my  hearts,  the  end  secured  against  your 
foot — down  on  your  right  knee,  front  rank — spare  not  for 
the  spoiling  of  your  blue  aprons. — Ha — Zerobabel — ay, 
that  is  the  word." 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  about  whom  or  what  is  he 
talkins;  f"  said  Everard  ;  "  wherefore  does  lie  go  about 
with  his  weapon   drawn  ?" 

*'  Trnlv,  sir,  when  aught  disturbs  my  masler  General 
Harrison,  lie  is  son)ething  rapt  in  the  spirit,  and  conceives 


WOODSTOCK.  189 

that  he  is  commanding  a  reserve  of  pikes  at  the  great  bat- 
tle of  Armageddon — and  for  his  weapon,  alack,  worthy 
sir,  wherefore  should  he  keep  Sheffield  steel  in  calves' 
leather,  when  there  are  fiends  to  be  combated — incarnate 
fiends  on  earth  f" 

"This  is  intolerable,"  said  Everard.  "  Listen  to  me 
Tomkins.  Thou  art  not  now  in  the  pulpit,  and  I  desire 
none  of  thy  preaching  language.  I  know  thou  canst  speak 
intelligibly  when  thou  art  so  minded.  Remember,  1  may 
serve  or  harm  thee  ;  and  as  you  hope  or  fear  anything 
on  my  part,  answer  straight-forward — What  has  happen- 
ed to  drive  out  thy  master  to  the  wild  wood  at  this  time  of 
night  ?" 

"  Forsooth,  worthy  and  honoured  sir,  I  will  speak  with 
the  precision  1  may.  True  it  is,  and  of  verity,  that  the 
breath  of  man,  which  is  in  his  nostrils,  goeth  forth  and 
returneth " 

"  Hark  you,  sir,"  said  Colonel  Everard,  "  take  care 
where  you  ramble  in  your  correspondence  with  me.  You 
have  heard  how  at  the  great  battle  of  Dunbar  in  Scotland, 
the  General  himself  held  a  pistol  to  the  head  of  Lieuten- 
ant Hewcreed,  threatening  to  shoot  him  through  the  brain 
if  he  did  not  give  up  holding  forth,  and  put  his  squadron  in 
line  to  the  front.     Take  care,  sir." 

*'  Verily,  the  lieutenant  then  charged  with  an  even  and 
unbroken  order,"  said  Tomkins,  "and  bore  a  thousand 
plaids  and  bonnets  over  the  beach  before  him  into  the 
sea.  Neither  shall  I  pretermit  or  postpone  your  honour's 
commands,  but  speedily  obey  them,  and  that  without 
delay." 

"  Go  to,  fellow  ;  thou  knowest  what  1  would  have," 
said  Everard  ;  "  speak  at  once — 1  know  thou  canst  if 
thou  wilt.  Trusty  Tomkins  is  better  known  than  he 
thinks  for."  » 

"  Worthy  sir,"  said  Tomkins,  in  a  much  less  peri- 
phrastic style,  "  I  will  obey  your  worship  as  far  as  the 
spirit  will  permit.  Truly,  it  was  not  an  hour  since, 
when  my  worshipful  master  being  at  table  with  Piaster 
Bibbet  and  myself,  not  to  mention  the  worshipful  Master 


190  WOODSTOCK. 

Bletson  and  Colonel  Desborough,  and  behold  there  was 
a  violent  knocking  at  the  gate,  as  of  one  in  haste.  Now, 
of  a  certainty,  so  much  had  our  household  been  harass- 
ed with  witches  and  spirits,  and  other  objects  of  sound 
and  sight,  that  the  sentinels  could  not  be  brought  to  abide 
upon  their  posts  without  doors,  and  it  was  only  by  pro- 
vision of  beef  and  strong  liquors  that  we  were  able  to 
maintain  a  guard  of  three  men  in  the  hall,  who  never- 
theless ventured  not  to  open  the  door,  lest  they  should 
be  surprised  with  some  of  the  gobhns  wherewith  their 
imaginations  were  overwhelmed.  And  they  heard  the 
knocking,  which  increased  until  it  seemed  that  the  door 
was  well  nigh  about  to  be  beaten  dow'n.  Worthy  Master 
Bibbet  was  a  little  overcome  with  liquor,  (as  is  his  fash- 
ion, good  man,  about  this  time  of  the  evening,)  not  that 
he  is  in  the  least  given  to  ebriety,  but  simply,  that  since 
the  Scottish  campaign  he  hath  had  a  perpetual  ague, 
which  obliges  him  so  to  nourish  his  frame  against  the 
damps  of  the  night  ;  wherefore,  as  it  is  well  known  to 
your  honour  that  I  discharge  the  office  of  a  faithful  ser- 
vant as  well  to  Major  General  Harrison,  and  the  other 
Commissioners,  as  to  my  just  and  lawful  master.  Colonel 
Desborough " 

"  I  know  all  that. — And  now  that  thou  art  trusted  by 
both,  I  pray  to  Heaven  thou  may'st  merit  the  trust," 
said    Colonel  Everard. 

"  And  devoutly  do  I  pray,"  said  Tomkins,  "  that 
your  worshipful  prayers  may  be  answered  with  favour  ; 
for  certainly  to  be,  and  to  be  called  and  entitled,  Honest 
Joe,  and  Trusty  Tomkins,  is  to  me  more  than  ever  would 
be  an  Earl's  title,  were  such  things  to  be  granted  anew  in 
this  regenerated  government." 

"  Well,  go  on — go  on — or  if  thou  dalliest  much  long- 
'er,  I  will  make  bold  to  dispute  the  article  of  your  hon- 
esty. I  hke  short  tales,  sir,  and  doubt  what  is  told  with 
a  Ions;  unnecessary  train  of  words." 

"  Well,  good  sir,  be  not  hasty.  As  1  said  before,  the 
doors  rattled  till  you  would  have  thought  the  knocking 
was  reiterated  in  every  room  of  the  Palace.       The  bell 


WOODSTOCK. 


191 


rung  out  for  company,  though  we  could  not  find  out  that 
any  one  tolled  the  clapper*,  and  the  guards  let  off  their 
firelocks,  merely  because  they  knew  not  what  better  to 
do.  So  Master  Bibbet  being,  as  1  said,  unsusceptible  of 
his  duty,  I  went  down  with  my  poor  rapier  to  the  door, 
and  demanded  who  was  there  ;  and  1  was  answered  in 
a  voice,  which,  I  must  say,  was  much  like  another  voice, 
that  it  was  one  wanting  Major-General  Harrison.  So  as 
it  was  then  late,  1  answered  mildly,  that  General  Harrison 
was  betaking  himself  to  his  rest,  and  that  any  who  wish- 
ed to  speak  to  him  must  return  on  the  morrow  morning, 
for  that  after  nightfall  the  door  of  the  Palace,  being  in  the 
room  of  a  garrison,  would  be  opened  to  no  one.  So  the 
voice  replied,  and  bid  me  open  directly,  without  which 
he  would  blow  the  folding  leaves  of  the  door  into  the  mid- 
dle of  the  hall.  And  therewithal  the  noise  recommenced, 
that  we  thought  the  house  would  have  fallen  ;  and  1  was 
in  some  measure  constrained  to  open  the  door,  even  like 
a  besieged  garrison  which  can  hold  out  no  longer." 

"  By  my  honour,  and  it  was  stoutly  done  of  you  I  must 
say,"  said  Wildrake,  who  had  been  listening  with  much 
interest.  "  I  am  a  bold  dare-devil  enough,  yet  when  I 
had  two  inches  of  oak  plank  between  the  actual  fiend  and 
me,  hang  him  that  would  demolish  the  barrier  between 
us,  say  I — I  would  as  soon,  when  aboard,  bore  a  hole  in 
the  ship,  and  let  in  the  waves  ;  for  you  know  we  always 
compare  the  devil  to  the  deep  sea." 

"  Pr'ythee,  peace,  Wildrake,"  said  Everard,  "  and 
let  him  on  with  his  history. — Well,  and  what  saw'st  thou 
when  the  door  was  opened  ? — the  great  Devil  with  his 
horns  and  claws  thou  wilt  say,  no  doubt." 

"  No,  sir,  I  will  say  nothing  but  what  is  true  :  When  I 
undid  the  door,  one  man  stood  there,  and  he,  to  seeming, 
a  man  of  no  extraordinary  appearance.  He  was  wrap- 
ped in  a  tafFety  cloak,  of  a  scarlet  colour,  and  with  a  red 
lining.  He  seemed  as  if  he  might  have  been  in  his  time 
a  very  handsome  man,  but  there  was  somethmg  of  pale- 
ness and  sorrow  in  his  face — a  long  love-lock  and  long 
hair  he  wore,  even  after  the   abomination   of  the  cava- 


192 


WOODSTOCK. 


liers,  and  the  unloveliness,  as  learned  Master  Prynne  well 
termed  it,  of  love-locks — a  jewel  in  his  ear — a  blue  scarf 
over  his  shoulder,  like  a  military  commander  for  the  King, 
and  a  hat  with  a  white  plume,  bearing  a  peculiar  hat-band." 

*'  Some  unhappy  officer  of  cavaliers,  of  whom  so  many 
are  in  hiding,  and  seeking  shelter  through  the  country," 
briefly  replied  Everard. 

"  True,  worthy  sir — right  as  a  judicious  exposition. 
But  there  was  something  about  this  man  (if  he  was  a 
man,)  whom  1,  for  one,  could  not  look  upon  without  trem- 
blmg ;  nor  the  musketeers  who  were  in  the  hall,  without 
betraying  much  alarm,  and  swallowing,  as  they  them- 
selves will  aver,  the  very  bullets  which  they  had  in  their 
mouths  for  loading  their  carabines  and  muskets.  Nay, 
the  wolf  and  deer-dogs,  that  are  the  fiercest  of  their 
kind,  fled  from  the  visiter,  and  crept  into  holes  and  cor- 
ners, moaning  and  wailing  in  a  low  and  broken  tone. 
He  came  into  the  middle  of  the  hall,  and  still  he  seemed 
no  more  than  an  ordinary  man,  only  somewhat  fantastic- 
ally dressed,  in  a  doublet  of  black  velvet  pinked  upon 
scarlet  satin  under  his  cloak,  a  jewel  in  his  ear,  with  large 
roses  in  his  shoes,  and  a  kerchief  in  his  hand,  which  he 
sometimes  pressed  against  his  left  side." 

"  Gracious  Heaven  !"  said  Wildrake,  coming  close  up 
to  Everard,  and  whispering  in  his  ear,  with  accents  which 
terror  rendered  tremulous,  (a  mood  of  mind  most  un- 
usual to  the  daring  man,  who  seemed  now  overcome  by 
it.,) — "  it  must  have  been  poor  Dick  Robison  the  player, 
in  the  very  dress  in  which  I  have  seen  him  play  Philaster 
— ay,  and  drank  a  jolly  bottle  with  him  after  it  at  the 
Mermaid  !  I  remember  how  many  frolicks  we  had  to2:eth- 
er,  and  all  his  little  fantastic  fashions.  He  served  for  his 
old  master,  Charles,  in  Mohnn's  troop,  and  was  murdered 
by  this  butcher's  dog,  as  1  have  heard,  after  surrender, 
at  the  battle  of  Naseby  field." 

'*  Hush  !  1  have  heard  of  the  deed,"  said  Everard  ; 
"  for  God's  sake  hear  the  man  to  an  end. — Did  this 
visiter  speak  to  thee,  my  friend  .'^" 


WOODSTOCK.  193 

*'  Yes,  sir,  in  a  pleasing  tone  of  voice,  but  somewhat 
fanciful  in  the  articulation,  and  like  one  who  is  speaking 
to  an  audience  as  from  a  bar  or  a  pulpit,  more  than  in 
the  voice  of  ordinary  men  on  ordinary  matters.  He  de- 
sired to  see  IMajor-General  Harrison." 

"  He  did  ! — and  you,"  said  Everard,  infected  by  the 
spirit  of  the  time,  which,  as  is  well  known,  leaned  to  cre- 
dulity upon  all  matters  of  supernatural  agency, — "  what 
did  you  do  .'^" 

*'  1  went  up  to  the  parlour,  and  related  that  such  a 
person  inquired  for  him.  He  started  when  1  told  him,  and 
eagerly  desired  to  know  the  man's  dress ;  but  no  sooner 
did  I  mention  his  dress,  and  the  jewel  in  his  ear,  than  he 
said,  '  Begone  !  tell  him  I  will  not  admit  him  to  speech 
of  me.  Say  that  I  defy  him,  and  will  make  my  defiance 
good  at  the  great  battle  in  the  valley  of  Armageddon, 
when  the  voice  of  the  angel  shall  call  all  fowls  which  fly 
under  the  face  of  heaven  to  feed  on  the  flesh  of  the  cap- 
tain and  the  soldier,  the  v.'ar-horse  and  his  rider.  Say 
to  the  Evil  One,  1  have  power  to  appeal  our  conflict 
even  till  that  day,  and  that  in  the  front  of  that  fearful  day 
he  will  again  meet  with  Harrison.'  1  went  back  with  this 
answer  to  the  stranger,  and  his  face  was  writhed  into  such 
a  deadly  frown  as  a  mere  human  brow  hath  seldom  worn. 
*  Return  to  him,'  he  said,  '  and  say  it  is  my  hour  ;  and 
that  if  he  come  not  instantly  down  to  speak  with  me,  I  will 
mount  the  stairs  to  him.  Say  that  I  command  him  to 
descend,  by  the  token,  that,  on  the  field  of  Naseby,  he 
did  not  the  work  negligently.''  " 

"  I  have  heard,"  whispered  Wildrake, — who  felt  more 
and  more  strongly  the  contagion  of  superstition, — "  that 
these  words  were  blasphemously  used  by  Harrison  when 
he  shot  my  poor  friend  Dick." 

"  What  happened  next  V  said  Everard.  "  See  that 
thou  speakest  the  truth." 

*'  As  gospel  unexpounded  by  a  steeple-man,"  said  the 
Independent ;  "  yet  truly  it  is  but  little  I  have  to  say. 
I  sav/  my  master  come  down,  with  a  blank,  yet  resolved 

17       VOL.    I. 


194 


WOODSTOCK. 


air  ;  and  when  be  entered  the  hall  and  saw  the  stranger, 
he  made  a  pause.  The  other  waved  on  him  as  if  to  fol- 
low, and  walked  out  at  the  portal.  My  worthy  patron 
seemed  as  if  he  were  about  to  follow,  yet  again  paused, 
when  this  visitant,  be  he  man  or  fiend,  re-entered,  and 
said,  *  Obey  thy  doom. 

'  By  pathless  march,  by  greenwood  tree, 
It  is  thy  weird  to  follow  me — 
To  follow  me  through  the  ghastly  moonlight — 
To  follow  me  through  the  shadows  of  night — 
To  follow  me,  comrade,  slill  art  thou  bound: 
I  conjure  thee  by  the  unstanched  wound — 
I  conjure  thee  by  the  last  words  I  spoke, 
When  the  body  slept  and  the  spirit  awoke, 
In  the  very  last  pangs  of  the  deadly  stroke.' 

So  saying,  he  stalked  out,  and  my  master  followed  him 
into  the  wood. — I  followed  also  at  a  distance.  But  when 
I  came  up,  my  master  was  alone,  and  bearing  himself  as 
you  now  behold  him." 

"  Thou  hast  had  a  wonderful  memory,  friend,"  said 
the  Colonel,  coldly,  "to  remember  these  rhymes  in  a 
single  recitation — there  seems  something  of  practice  in 
all  this," 

*'  A  single  recitation,  my  honoured  sir  .^"  exclaimed 
the  Independent, — "  alack,  the  rhyme  is  seldom  out  of 
my  poor  master's  mouth,  i^hen,  as  sometimes  haps,  he  is 
less  triumphant  in  his  wrestles  with  Satan.  But  it  was 
the  first  time  I  ever  heard  it  uttered  by  another  ;  and, 
to  say  truth,  he  ever  seems  to  repeat  it  unwillingly,  as  a 
child  after  his  pedagogue,  and  as  it  was  not  indited  by 
his  own  head,  as  the  Psalmist  saith." 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  Everard, — "  I  have  heard  and 
read  that  the  spirits  of  the  slaughtered  have  strange 
power  over  the  slayer  ;  but  I  am  astonished  to  believe 
there  may  be  truth  in  such  tales. — Roger  Wildrake — 
what  art  thou  afraid  of,  man  ^ — why  dost  thou  shift  thy 
place  thus  .^" 

"  Fear  ?  it  is  not  fear — it  is  hate,  deadly  hate. — I 
see  the  murderer  of  poor  Dick  before  me,  and — see,  he 


WOODSTOCK.  195 

throws  himself  into  a  posture  of  fence — Sa — sa — say'st 
thou,  brood  of  a  butcher's  mastiff?  thou  shalt  not  want  an 
antagonist." 

Ere  any  one  could  stop  him,  Wildrake  threw  aside  his 
cloak,  drew  his  sword,  and  almost  with  a  single  bound 
cleared  the  distance  betwixt  him  and  Harrison,  and  cross- 
ed swords  with  the  latter,  as  he  stood  brandishiiig  his 
weapon,  as  if  in  immediate  expectation  of  an  assailant. 
Accordingly,  the  Republican  General  was  not  for  an  in- 
stant taken  at  unawares,  but  the  moment  the  swords 
clashed,  he  shouted,  "Ha!  I  feel  thee  now,  thou  hast 
come  in  body  at  last. — Welcome  !  welcome  ! — the  sword 
of  the  Lord  and  of  Gideon  !" 

"  Part  them,  part  them,"  cried  Everard,  as  he  and 
Tomkins,  at  first  astonished  at  the  suddenness  of  the 
affray,  hastened  to  interfere.  Everard,  seizing  on  the 
cavalier,  drew  him  forcibly  backwards,  while  Tomkins 
contrived,  with  risk  and  difficulty,  to  master  Harrison's 
sword,  while  the  General  exclaimed,  "  Ha  !  two  to  one 
— two  to  one  ! — thus  fight  demons."  Wildrake,  on  his 
side,  swore  a  dreadful  oath,  and  added,  "  Markham,  you 
have  cancelled  every  obligation  I  owed  you — they  are  all 
out  of  sight  — gone,  d — n  me." 

"  You  have  indeed  acquitted  these  obligations  rarely," 
said  Everard.  "Who  knows  how  this  affair  shall  be 
explained  and  answered  ?" 

"  I  will  answer  it  with  my  life,"  said  Wildrake. 

"  Good  now  be  silent,"  said  Tomkins,  "  and  let  me 
manage.  It  shall  be  so  ordered  that  the  good  General 
shall  never  know  that  he  hath  encountered  with  mortal 
man  ;  only  let  that  man  of  Moab  put  his  sword  into  the 
scabbard's  rest,  and  be  still." 

"  Wildrake,  let  me  entreat  thee  to  sheathe  thy.  sword,'*' 
said  Everard  ;  "  else,  on  my  life,  thou  must  turn  it 
against  me." 

"No,  'fore  George,  not  so  mad  as  that  neither  ;  but 
I'll  have  another  day  with  him." 

"  Thou,  another  day  !"  exclaimed  Harrison,  whose 
eye  had  still  remained  fixed  on  the  spot  where  he  found 


196 


WOODSTOCK. 


such  palpable  resistance.  "Yes,  I  know  thee  well ;  day 
by  day,  week  by  week,  thou  makest  the  same  idle  request, 
for  thou  knowest  that  my  heart  quivers  at  thy  voice. — 
But  my  hand  trembles  not  when  opposed  to  thine — the 
spirit  is  willing  to  the  combat,  if  the  flesh  be  weak  when 
opposed  to  that  which  is  not  of  the  flesh." 

"  Now,  peace  all,  for  Heaven's  sake," — said  the  stew- 
ard Tomkins  ;  then  added,  addressing  his  master, 
"  there  is  no  one  here,  if  it  please  your  Excellence,  but 
Tomkins  and  the  worthy  Colonel  Everard." 

General  Harrison,  as  sometimes  happens  in  cases  of 
partial  insanity,  (that  is,  supposing  his  to  have  been  a 
case  of  mental  delusion,)  though  firmly  and  entirely  per- 
suaded of  the  truth  of  his  own  visions,  yet  was  not  will- 
ing to  speak  on  the  subject  to  those  who,  he  knew,  would 
regard  them  as  imaginary.  Upon  this  occasion  he  as- 
sumed the  appearance  of  perfect  ease  and  composure, 
after  the  violent  agitation  he  had  just  manifested,  in  a  man- 
ner which  showed  how  anxious  he  was  to  disguise  his 
real  feelings  from  Everard,  whom  he  considered  as  un- 
likely to  participate  them. 

He  saluted  the  Colonel  with  profound  ceremony,  and 
talked  of  the  fineness  of  the  evening  which  had  summon- 
ed him  forth  of  the  Lodge,  to  take  a  turn  in  the  Park, 
and  enjoy  the  favourable  weather.  He  then  took  Ever- 
ard by  the  arm,  and  walked  back  with  him  towards  the 
Lodge,  Wildrake  and  Tomkins  following  close  behind 
and  leading  the  horses.  Everard,  desirous  to  gain  some 
light  on  these  mysterious  incidents,  endeavoured  to  come 
on  the  subject  more  than  once,  by  a  mode  of  interroga- 
tion, which  Harrison  (for  madmen  are  very  often  unwil- 
ling to  enter  on  the  subject  of  their  mental  delusion) 
parried  with  some  skill,  or  addressed  himself  for  aid  to 
his  steward  Tomkins,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  being 
voucher  for  his  master  upon  all  occasions,  which  led  to 
Desborough's  ingenious  nickname  of  Fibbet. 

"  And  wherefore  had  you  your  sword  drawn,  my  w^or- 
thy  General,"  said  Everard,  "  when  you  were  only  on 
an  evening  walk  of  pleasure  .''" 


WOODSTOCK.  197 

"  Truly,  excellent  Colonel,  these  are  times  when  men 
must  watch  with  their  loins  girded,  and  their  lights  burn- 
ing, and  their  weapons  drawn.  The  day  draweth  nigh, 
believe  me  or  not  as  you  will,  that  men  must  watch  lest 
they  be  found  naked  and  unarmed,  when  the  seven  trum- 
pets shall  sound.  Boot  and  saddle  ;  and  the  pipes  of 
Jezer  shall  strike  up.  Horse  and  away." 

"  True,  good  General  ;  but  methought  I  saw  you 
making  passes  even  now  as  if  you  were  fighting,"  said 
Everard. 

"  I  am  of  a  strange  fantasy,  friend  Everard,"  answer- 
ed Harrison  ;  "  and  when  I  walk  alone,  and  happen,  as 
but  now^,  to  have  my  weapon  drawn,  I  sometimes,  for 
exercise  sake,  will  practise  a  thrust  against  such  a  tree 
as  that.  It  is  a  silly  pride  men  have  in  the  use  of  wea- 
pons. I  have  been  accounted  a  master  of  fence,  and  have 
fought  prizes  when  I  was  unregenerated,  and  before  I 
was  called  to  do  my  part  in  the  great  work,  entering  as  a 
trooper  into  our  victorious  General's  first  regiment  of 
horse." 

"  But  methought,"  said  Everard,  "  I  heard  a  weapon 
clash  with  yours  .''" 

"  How  ?  a  weapon  clash  with  my  sword  ? — How^  could 
that  be,  Tomkins  ?" 

"Truly,  sir,"  said  Tomkins,  "  it  must  have  been  a 
bough  of  the  tree  ;  they  have  them  of  all  kinds  here,  and 
your  honour  may  have  pushed  against  one  of  them,  which 
the  Brazilians  call  iron-wood,  a  block  of  which  being 
struck  witli  a  hammer,  saiih  Purchas  in  his  Pilgrimage, 
ringeth  like  an  anvil." 

"  Truly,  ii  may  be  so,"  said  Harrison  ;  "  for  these 
rulers  who  are  gone,  assembled  in  this  their  abode  of 
pleasure  many  strange  trees  and  plants,  though  they 
gathered  not  of  the  fruit  of  that  tree,  which  beareth 
twelve  manner  of  fruits,  or  of  those  leaves  which  are  for 
the  healing  of  the  nations." 

Everard  pursued  his  investigation;  for  he  was  struck 
with  the  manner  in  which  Harrison  evaded  his  questions^ 

17*       VOL.    I. 


198  WOODSTOCK. 

and  the  dexterity  with  which  he  threw  his  transcendental 
and  fanatical  notions,  like  a  sort  of  veil,  over  the  darker 
visions  excited  by  remorse  and  conscious  guilt. 

'^  But,"  said  he,  "  if  I  may  trust  my  eyes  and  ears,  1 
cannot  but  still  think  that  you  had  a  real  antagonist — 
Nay,  1  am  sure  I  saw  a  fellow,  in  a  dark-coloured  jerkin, 
retreat  through  the  wood." 

"  Did  you  f"  said  Harrison,  with  a  tone  of  surprise, 
while  his  voice  faltered  in  spite  of  him>  '*  Who  could  he 
be  f — Tomkins,  did  you  see  the  fellow  Colonel  Everard 
talks  of  with  the  napkin  in  his  hand — the  bloody  napkin 
which  he  always  pressed  to  his  side  ?" 

This  last  expression,  in  which  Harrison  gave  a  mark 
different  from  that  which  Everard  had  assigned,  but 
corresponding  to  Tomkins'  original  description  of  the 
supposed  spectre,  had  more  effect  on  Everard  in  confirm- 
ing the  steward's  story,  than  anything  he  had  witnessed 
or  heard.  The  voucher  answered  the  draft  upon  him 
as  promptly  as  usual,  that  he  had  seen  such  a  fellow  glide 
past  them  into  the  thicket — that  he  dare  say  he  was  some 
deer-stealer,  for  he  had  heard  they  were  become  very 
audacious. 

"  Look  ye  there  now,  Master  Everard,"  said  Harri- 
son, hurrying  from  the  subject — "  Is  it  not  time  now  that 
we  should  lay  aside  our  controversies,  and  join  hand  in 
hand  to  repairing  the  breaches  of  our  Zion  ?  Happy  and 
contented  were  I,  my  excellent  friend,  to  be  a  treader  of 
mortar,  or  the  bearer  of  a  hod,  upon  this  occasion,  under 
our  great  leader,  with  whom  Providence  has  gone  forth 
in  this  great  national  controversy  ;  and  truly,  so  devoutly 
do  I  hold  by  your  excellent  and  victorious  General  Oliver, 
whom  Heaven  long  preserve — that  were  he  to  command 
me,  1  should  not  scruple  to  pluck  forth  of  his  high  place 
the  man  whom  they  call  Speaker,  even  as  I  lent  a  poor 
hand  to  pluck  down  the  man  whom  they  called  King. — 
"Wherefore,  as  I  know  your  judgment  holdeth  with  mine 
on  this  matter,  let  me  urge  unto  you  lovingly,  that  we 
may  act  as  brethren,  and  build  up  the  breaches,  and  re- 
establish the  bulwarks  of  our  English  Zion,  whereby  we 


WOODSTOCK.  199 

shall  be  doubtless  chosen  as  pillars  and  buttresses,  under 
our  excellent  Lord  General,  for  supporting  and  sustaining 
the  same,  and  endowed  with  proper  revenues  and  in- 
comes, both  spiritual  and  temporal,  to  serve  as  a  pedestal, 
on  which  we  may  stand,  seeing  that  otherwise  our  foun- 
dation will  be  on  the  loose  sand. — Nevertheless,"  con- 
tinued he,  his  mind  again  diverging  from  his  view^s  of 
temporal  ambition  into  his  visions  of  the  Fifth  Monarchy, 
"  these  things  are  but  vanity  in  respect  of  the  opening  of 
the  book  which  is  sealed  ;  for  all  things  approach  speedily 
towards  lightning  and  thundering,  and  unloosing  of  the 
great  dragon  from  the  bottomless  pit,  wherein  he  is 
chained." 

With  this  mingled  strain  of  earthly  politics,  and  fanat- 
ical prediction,  Harrison  so  overpowered  Colonel  Ever- 
ard,  as  to  leave  him  no  time  to  urge  him  further  on  the 
particular  circumstances  of  his  nocturnal  skirmish,  con- 
cerning which  it  is  plain  he  had  no  desire  to  be  interro- 
gated.    They  now  reached  the  Lodge  of  Woodstock. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Now  the  wasted  brands  do  glow, 

While  the  screech-owl,  sounding  loud, 
Puts  the  wretch  that  lies  in  woe, 

In  remembrance  of  a  shroud. 
Now  it  is  the  time  of  night 

That, the  graves  all  gaping  wide, 
Every  one  lets  out  its  sprite. 

In  the  church-way  paths  to  glide. 

Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

Before  the  gate  of  the  palace  the  guards  were  now 
doubled.  Everard  demanded  the  reason  of  this  from 
the  corporal,  whom  he  found  in  the  hall  with  his  soldiers, 
sitting  or  sleeping  around  a  great  fire,  maintained  at  the 


200  WOODSTOCK. 

expense  of  the  carved  chairs  and  benches  with  fragments 
of  which  it  was  furnished. 

"  Why,  verily,"  answered  the  man,  "  the  corps  de 
garde,  as  your  worship  says,  will  be  harassed  to  pieces 
by  such  duty  ;  nevertheless,  fear  halh  gone  abroad  among 
us,  and  no  one  man  will  mount  guard  alone.  We  have 
drawn  in,  however,  one  or  two  of  our  outposts  from 
Banbury  and  elsewhere,  and  we  are  to  have  a  relief  from 
Oxford  to-morrow." 

Everard  continued  minute  inquiries  concerning  the 
sentinels  that  were  posted  within  as  well  as  without  the 
Castle  ;  and  found  that,  as  they  had  been  stationed  under 
the  eye  of  Harrison  himself,  the  rules  of  prudent  disci- 
phne  had  been  exactly  observed  in  the  distribution  of  the 
posts.  There  remained  nothing  therefore  for  Colonel 
Everard  to  do,  excepting  that,  remembering  his  own  ad- 
venture of  the  evening,  to  recommend  that  an  additional 
sentinel  should  be  placed,  with  a  companion,  if  judged 
indispensable,  in  that  vestibule,  or  anti-room,  from  which 
the  long  gallery,  where  he  had  met  with  the  rencounter, 
and  other  suits  of  apartments,  diverged.  The  corporal 
respectfully  promised  all  obedience  to  his  orders.  The 
serving-men  being  called,  appeared  also  in  double  force. 
Everard  demanded  to  know  whether  the  Commissioners 
had  gone  to  bed,  or  whether  he  could  get  speech  with 
them  ? 

"  They  are  in  their  bed-room,  forsooth,"  replied  one 
of  the  fellows;  "  but  I  think  be  not  yet  undressed." 

"  What  !"  said  Everard,  "  are  Colonel  Desborough 
and  Master  Bletson  both  in  tiie  same  sleeping  apartment.^" 

"  Their  honours  have  so  chosen  it,"  said  the  man  ; 
*'  and  their  honours'  secretaries  remain  upon  guard  all 
night." 

"  It  is  the  fashion  to  double  guards  all  over  the  house," 
said  Wild  rake.  "  Had  1  a  glimpse  of  a  good-looking 
house-maid  nov/,  I  should  know  how  to  fall  into  the  fash- 
ion." 

"  Peace,  fool  !"  said  Everard.—"  And  where  are  the 
Mayor  and  Master  Holdenough  ?" 


WOODSTOCK. 


201 


"  The  Mayor  is  returned  to  the  borough  on  horseback, 
behind  the  trooper,  who  goes  to  Oxford  for  the  reinforce- 
ment ;  and  the  man  of  the  steeple-house  hath  quartered 
himself  in  the  chamber  which  Colonel  Desborough  had 
last  night,  being  that  in  which  he  is  most  likely  to  meet 

the your  honour  understands.     The  Lord  pity  us, 

we  are  a  harassed  family  !" 

"  And  where  be  General  Harrison's  knaves,"  said 
Tomkins,  "  that  they  do  not  marshal  him  to  his  apart- 
ment ?" 

"  Here — here — here,  Master  Tomkins,"  said  three 
fellows,  pressing  forward,  with  the  same  consternation 
on  their  faces  which  seemed  to  pervade  the  whole  inhab- 
itants of  Woodstock. 

"Away  with  you  then,"  said  Tomkins; — "  speak  not 
to  his  worship — you  see  he  is  not  in  the  humour." 

"  Indeed,"  observed  Colonel  Everard,  "  he  looks 
singularly  wan — his  features  seem  writhen  as  by  a  palsy 
stroke  ;  and  though  he  was  talking  so  fast  while  he  came 
along,  he  hath  not  opened  his  mouth  since  we  came  to 
the  light." 

"  It  is  his  manner  after  such  visitations,"  said  Tom- 
kins.— "  Give  his  honour  your  arms,  Zedekiah  and  Jon- 
athan, to  lead  him  off — I  will  follow  instantly. — You, 
Nicodemus,  tarry  to  wait  upon  me — it  is  not  well  walking 
alone  in  this  mansion." 

"  Master  Tomkins,"  said  Everard,  "  I  have  heard  of 
you  often  as  a  sharp,  intelligent  man — tell  me  fairly,  are 
you  in  earnest  afraid  of  anything  supernatural  haunting 
this  house  ?" 

"  I  would  be  loath  to  run  the  chance,  sir,"  said  Tom- 
kins very  gravely  ;  "  by  looking  on  my  worshipful  master, 
you  may  form  a  guess  how  the  hving  look  after  they  have 
spoken  with  the  dead."  He  bowed  low,  and  took  his 
leave.  Everard  proceeded  to  the  chamber  which  the 
two  remaining  Commissioners  had,  for  comfort's  sake, 
chosen  to  inhabit  in  company.  They  were  preparing  for 
bed  as  he  went  into  their  apartment.     Both  started  as 


202 


WOODSTOCK. 


the  door  opened — both  rejoiced  when  they  saw  it  was 
only  Evejard  who  entered. 

"  Hark  ye  hither,"  said  Bletson,  pulling  him  aside, 
"sawest  thou  ever  ass  equal  to  Desborough  ? — the  fellow 
is  as  big  as  an  ox,  and  as  timorous  as  a  sheep.  He  has 
insisted  on  my  sleeping  here  to  protect  him.  Shall  we 
have  a  merry  night  on't,  ha?  We  will,  if  thou  wilt  take 
the  third  bed,  which  was  prepared  for  Harrison  ;  but  he 
is  gone  out,  hke  a  mooncalf,  to  look  for  the  valley  of 
Armageddon  in  the  Park  of  Woodstock." 

"  General  Harrison  has  returned  with  me  but  now," 
said  Everard. 

"  Nay  but,  as  I  shall  live,  he  comes  not  into  our  apart- 
ment," said  Desborough,  overhearijig  his  answer.  *'  No 
man  that  has  been  supping,  for  aught  1  know,  with  the 
Devil,  has  a  right  to  sleep  among  Christian  folks." 

"  He  does  not  propose  so,"  said  Everard  ;  "  he  sleeps, 
as  I  understand,  apart — and   alone." 

"  Not  quite  alone,  I  dare  say,"  said  Desborough  ; 
"  for  Harrison  hath  a  sort  of  attraction  for  goblins — they 
fly  round  him  like  moths  about  a  candle  :  But,  I  prithee, 
good  Everard,  do  thou  stay  with  us.  I  know  not  how  it 
is,  but  although  thou  hast  not  thy  religion  always  in  thy 
mouth,  nor  speakest  many  hard  words  about  it,  like  Har- 
rison— nor  makest  long  preachments,  like  a  certain  most 
honourable  relation  of  mine  who  shall  be  nameless,  yet 
somehow  I  feel  myself  safer  in  thy  company  than  with 
any  of  them.  As  for  this  Bletson,  he  is  such  a  mere 
blasphemer,  that  I  fear  the  Devil  will  carry  him  away 


'&' 


"  Did  you  ever  hear  such  a  paltry  coward  ?"  said 
Bletson,  apart  to  Everard.  "  Do  tarry,  however,  my 
honoured  Colonel — I  know  your  zeal  to  assist  the  dis- 
tressed, and  you  see  Desborough  is  in  that  predicament, 
that  he  will  require  near  him  more  than  one  good  ex- 
ample to  prevent  him  thinking  of  ghosts  and  fiends." 

''I  am  sorry  I  cannot  oblige  you,  gentlemen,"  said 
Everard  ;  "  but  I  have  settled  my  mind  to  sleep  in 
Victor  Lee's  apartment,  so  I  wish  you  good  night ;  and 


WOODSTOCK.  203 

if  you  would  repose  without  disturbance,  I  would  advise 
that  you  commend  yourselves,  during  the  watches  of  the 
night,  to  Him  unto  whom  night  is  even  as  mid-day.  I 
had  intended  to  have  spoke  with  you  this  evening  on  the 
subject  of  my  being  here  ;  but  I  will  defer  the  confer- 
ence till  to-morrow,  when,  I  think,  I  will  be  able  to  show 
you  excellent  reason  for  leaving  Woodstock." 

"  We  have  seen  plenty  such  already,"  said  Desbo- 
rough  ;  "  for  one,  I  came  here  to  serve  the  estate,  with 
moderate  advantage  doubtless  to  myself  for  my  trouble  : 
but  if  I  am  set  upon  my  head  again  to-night,  as  I  was  the 
night  before,  I  would  not  stay  longer  to  gain  a  king's 
crown,  for  1  am  sure  my  neck  would  be  unfitted  to  bear 
the  weight  of  it." 

"  Good  night,"  exclaimed  Everard  ;  and  was  about 
to  go,  w^ien  Bletson  again  pressed  close,  and  whispered 
to  him,  "  Hark  thee,  Colonel — you  know  my  friendship 
for  thee — I  do  implore  thee  to  leave  the  door  of  thy  apart- 
ment open,  that  if  thou  meetest  with  any  disturbance,  I 
may  hear  thee  call,  and  be  with  thee  upon  the  very  in- 
stant. Do  this,  dear  Everard,  my  fears  for  thee  will  keep 
me  awake  else  ;  for  I  know  that,  notwithstanding  your 
excellent  sense,  you  entertain  some  of  those  superstitious 
ideas  which  we  suck  in  with  our  mother's  milk,  and  which 
constitute  the  ground  of  our  fears  in  situations  like  the 
present ;  therefore  leave  thy  door  open,  if  you  love  me, 
that  you  may  have  ready  assistance  from  me  in  case  of 
need." 

"  My  master,"  said  Wildrake,  "  trusts,  first,  in  his 
Bible,  sir,  and  then  in  his  good  sword.  He  has  no  idea 
that  the  Devil  can  be  bafl3ed  by  the  charm  of  two  men 
lying-in  one  room,  still  less  that  the  foul  fiend  can  be  ar- 
gued out  of  existence  by  the  Nullifidians  of  the  Rota." 

Everard  seized  his  imprudent  friend  by  the  collar,  and 
dragged  him  off  as  he  was  speaking,  keeping  fast  hold  of 
him  till  they  were  both  in  the  chamber  of  Victor  Lee, 
where  they  had  slept  on  a  former  occasion.  Even  then 
he  continued  to  hold  Wildrake,  until  the  servant  had  ar- 
ranged the  lights,  and  was  dismissed  from  the  room  j  then 


204  WOODSTOCK. 

letting  him  go,  addressed  him  with  the  upbraiding  ques- 
tion, "  Art  thou  not  a  prudent  and  sagacious  person, 
who  in  times  hke  these  seek  every  opportunity  to  argue 
yourself  into  a  broil,  or  embroil  yourself  in  an  argument  ? 
Out  on  you  ?" 

"  Ay,  out  on  me  indeed,"  said  the  cavalier  ;  "  out  on 
me  for  a  poor  tame-spirited  creature,  that  submits  to  be 
bandied  about  in  this  manner,  by  a  man  who  is  neither 
better  born  nor  better  bred  than  myself.  I  tell  thee, 
Mark,  you  make  an  unfair  use  of  your  advantages  over 
me.  Why  will  you  not  let  me  go  from  you,  and  Hve  and 
die  after  my  own  fashion  ?" 

"  Because,  before  we  had  been  a  week  separate,  I 
should  hear  of  your  dying  after  the  fashion  of  a  dog. 
Come,  my  good  friend,  what  madness  was  it  in  thee  to 
fall  foul  on  Harrison,  and  then  to  enter  into  useless  ar- 
gument with  Bletson  f" 

"  Why,  we  are  in  the  Devil's  house,  I  think,  and  I 
would  willingly  give  the  landlord  his  due  wherever  I 
travel.  To  have  sent  him  Harrison,  or  Bletson  now, 
just  as  a  lunch  to  stop  his  appetite,  till  Crom " 

"  Hush  !  stone  walls  have  ears,"  said  Everard,  looking 
around  him.  "  Here  stands  thy  night-drink.  Look  to 
my  arms,  for  we  must  be  as  careful  as  if  the  Avenger  of 
Blood  were  behind  us.  Yonder  is  thy  bed — and  I,  as 
thou  seest,  have  one  prepared  in  the  parlour.  The  door 
only  divides  us." 

"  Which  I  will  leave  open,  in  case  thou  should'st  hollo 
for  assistance,  as  yonder  Nullifidian  hath  it. — But  how 
hast  thou  got  all  this  so  well  put  in  order,  good  patron  .^" 

"  I  gave  the  steward  Tomkins  notice  of  my  purpose 
to  sleep  here." 

"  A  strange  fellow  that,"  said  Wildrake,  "  and,  as  I 
judge,  has  taken  measure  of  every  one's  foot — all  seems 
to  pass  through  his  hands." 

"  He  is,  I  have  understood,"  replied  Everard,  "one 
of  the  men  formed  by  the  times — has  a  ready  gift  of 
preaching  and  expoundinj^,  which  keeps  him  in  high 
terms  with  the  Independents  ;  and  recommends  himself 


WOODSTOCK.  205 

to  the  more  moderate  people  by  his  intelligence  and 
activity." 

"Has  his  sincerity  ever  been  doubted  r"  said  Wildrake. 

"  Never,  that  I  heard  of,''  said  the  Colonel ;  "  on  the 
contrary,  he  has  been  familiarly  called  Honest  Joe,  and 
Trusty  Tomkins.  For  my  part,  1  believe  his  sincerity 
has  always  kept  pace  with  his  interest.  Bui  come,  finish 
thy  cup,  and  to  bed. — What,  all  emptied  atone  draught.''" 

"  Adszookers,  yes — my  vow  forbids  me  to  make  two 
on't  ;  but,  never  fear — the  nightcap  will  only  waim  my 
brain,  not  clog  it.  So,  man  or  devil,  give  me  notice  if 
you  are  disturbed,  and  rely  on  me  in  a  twinkling."  So 
saying,  the  cavalier  retreated  into  his  separate  apartment, 
and  Colonel  Everard,  taking  off  the  most  cumbrous  part 
of  his  dress,  lay  down  in  his  hose  and  doublet,  and  com- 
posed himself  to  rest. 

He  was  awakened  from  sleeping  by  a  slow  and  solemn 
strain  of  music,  which  died  away  as  at  a  distance.  He 
started  up,  and  felt  for  his  arms,  which  he  found  close 
beside  him.  His  temporary  bed  being  without  curtains, 
he  could  look  around  him  without  difficulty  ;  but  as  there 
remained  in  the  chimney  only  a  few  red  embers  of  the 
fire,  which  he  had  arranged  before  he  went  to  sleep,  it 
was  impossible  he  could  discern  any  thing.  He  felt, 
therefore,  in  spite  of  his  natural  courage,  tliat  undefined 
and  thrilling  species  of  tremor  which  attends  a  sense 
that  danger  is  near,  and  an  uncertainty  concerning  its 
cause  and  character.  Reluctant  as  he  was  to  yield  be- 
lief to  supernatural  occurrences,  we  have  not  already-said 
he  was  not  absolutely  incredulous  ;  as  perhaps,  even  in 
this  more  sceptical  age,  there  are  many  fewer  complete 
and  absolute  infidels  on  this  particular  tlian  give  them- 
selves out  for  such.  Uncertain  whether  he  had  not 
dreamed  of  these  sounds  which  seemed  yet  in  his  ears, 
he  was  unwilling  to  risk  the  raillery  of  his  friend  by  sum- 
moning him  to  his  assistance.  He  sat  up,  therefore,  in 
his  bed,  not  without  experiencing  that  nervous  agitation 
to  which  brave  men  as  well  as  cowards  are  subject  ; 

18       VOL.    I. 


206  WOODSTOCK. 

with  this  difference,  that  the  one  sinks  under  it,  hke  the 
vine  under  the  hail-storm,  and  the  other  collects  his  en- 
ergies to  shake  it  off,  as  the  cedar  of  Lebanon  is  said  to 
elevate  its  boughs  to  disperse  the  snow  which  accumu- 
lates upon  them. 

The  stor}'  of  Harrison,  in  his  own  absolute  despite,  and 
notwithstanding  a  secret  suspicion  which  he  had  of  trick 
or  connivance,  returned  on  his  mind  at  this  dead  and 
solitary  hour.  Harrison,  he  remembered,  had  described 
the  vision  by  a  circumstance  of  its  appearance  different 
from  that  which  his  own  remark  had  been  calculated  to 
suggest  to  the  mind  of  the  visionary  ; — that  bloody  nap- 
kin, always  pressed  to  the  side,  was  then  a  circumstance 
present  either  to  his  bodily  eye,  or  to  that  of  his  agitated 
imagination.  Did,  then,  the  murdered  revisit  the  living 
haunts  of  those  who  had  forced  them  from  the  stage, 
with  all  their  sins  unaccounted  for  ?  And  if  they  did, 
miglit  not  the  same  permission  authorize  other  visitations 
of  a  similar  nature,  to  warn — to  instiuct — to  punish  ? 
Rash  are  they,  was  his  conclusion,  and  credulous,  who 
receive  as  truth  every  tale  of  the  kind  ;  but  no  less  rash 
may  it  be,  to  hmit  the  power  of  the  Creator  over  the 
works  which  he  has  made,  and  to  suppose  that,  by  the 
permission  of  the  Author  of  Nature,  the  laws  of  Nature 
may  not,  in  peculiar  cases,  and  for  high  purposes,  be 
temporarily  suspended. 

VVhile  these  thoughts  passed  through  Everard's  mind, 
feelings  unknown  to  him,  even  when  he  stood  first  on  the 
rough  and  perilous  edge  of  battle  gained  ground  upon 
him.  He  feared  he  knew^  not  what  ;  and  where  an  open 
and  discernible  peril  would  have  drawn  out  his  courage, 
the  absolute  uncertainty  of  his  situation  increased  his 
sense  of  the  danger.  He  felt  an  almost  irresistible  de- 
sire to  spring  from  his  bed  and  heap  fuel  on  the  dying 
embers,  expecting  by  the  blaze  to  see  some  strange  sight 
in  his  chamber.  He  was  also  strongly  tempted  to  awaken 
Wildrake  ;  but  shame,  stronger  than  fear  itself,  checked 
these  impulses.  What !  should  it  be  thought  that  IMark- 
ham  Everardjheld  one  of  the  best  soldiers  who  had  drawn 


VvOODSTOCi^ 


107 


a  sword  in  this  sad  war — Markham  Everard,  who  had 
obtained  such  distinguished  rank  in  the  army  of  the  Par- 
liament, thougli  so  young  in  years,  was  afraid  of  remain- 
ing by  himself  in  a  twihghi-room  at  midniglitf — It  never 
should  be  said. 

Tnis  was,  however,  no  charm  for  his  unpleasant  cur- 
rent of  thought.  There  rushed  on  his  mind  the  various 
traditions  of  Victor  Lee's  chamber,  which,  tliough  he 
had  often  despised  them  as  vague,  unauthenticater,  and 
inconsistent  rumours,  engendered  by  ancient  superstition 
and  transmitted  from  generation  to  generation  by  loqua- 
cious credulity,  had  yet  something  in  tliern,  which  did  not 
tend  to  allay  the  present  unpleasant  slate  of  the  nerves. 
Then,  when  he  recollected  the  events  of  that  very  after- 
noon, the  weapon  pressed  against  his  throat,  and  the 
strong  arm  which  threw  him  backward  on  the  fioor — 
if  the  remembrance  served  to  contradict  the  idea  of  flit- 
ting phantoms,  and  unreal  daggers,  it  certainly  induced 
him  to  believe,  that  there  was  in  some  part  of  this  exten- 
sive mansion  a  party  of  cavaliers,  or  malignants,  harbour- 
ed, who  might  arise  in  the  night,  overpower  the  guards, 
and  execute  upon  them  all,  but  on  Harrison  in  particular, 
as  one  of  the  regicide  judges,  that  vengeance,  which  was 
so  eagerly  thirsted  for  by  the  attached  followers  of  the 
slauohtered  monarch. 

He  endeavoured  to  console  himself  on  this  subject,  by 
the  number  and  position  of  the  guards,  yet  still  was  dis- 
satisfied with  himself  for  not  having  taken  yet  more  exact 
precautions,  and  for  keeping  an  extorted  promise  of  si- 
lence, which  might  consign  so  many  of  his  party  to  the 
danger  of  assassination.  These  thoughts,  connected  with 
his  military  duties,  awakened  another  train  of  reflections. 
He  bethought  himself,  that  all  he  could  now  do,  was  to 
visit  the  sentries,  and  ascertain  that  they  were  awake, 
alert,  on  the  watch,  and  so  situated,  that  in  time  of  need 
they  might  be  ready  to  support  each  other. — "  This  better 
befits  me,"  he  thought,  "  than  to  be  here,  like  a  child, 
frightening  myself  with  the  old  woman's  legend,  which  I 
have  laughed  at  when  a  lev.      Whnt  if  old  Victor  Lee 


208 


WOODSTOCK. 


was  a  sacrilegious  man,  as  common  report  goes,  and 
brewed  ale  in  the  font  which  he  brought  from  the  ancient 
palace  of  Holyrood,  while  church  and  building  were  in 
flames  f  And  what  if  his  eldest  son  was  when  a  child 
scalded  to  death  in  the  same  vessel  ?  How  many  church- 
es have  been  demolished  since  his  time  ?  How  many 
fonts  desecrated  ?  So  many  indeed,  that  were  the  ven- 
geance of  Heaven  to  visit  such  aggressions  in  a  super- 
natural manner,  no  corner  in  England,  no,  not  the  most 
petty  parish  church,  but  would  have  its  apparition. — 
Tush,  these  are  idle  fancies,  unworthy,  especially,  to  be 
entertained  by  those  educated  to  believe  that  sanctity 
resides  in  the  intention  and  the  act,  not  in  the  buildings  or 
fonts,  or  the  form  of  worship." 

As  thus  he  called  together  the  articles  of  his  Calvinistic 
creed,  the  bell  of  the  great  clock  (a  token  seldom  silent 
in  such  narratives)  tolled  three,  and  was  immediately  fol- 
lowed by  the  hoarse  call  of  the  sentinels,  through  vault 
and  gallery,  up  stairs  and  beneath,  challenging  and  an- 
swering each  other  with  the  usual  watchword,  All's  well. 
Their  voices  mingled  with  the  deep  boom  ot  the  bell,  yet 
ceased  before  that  was  silent,  and  when  they  had  died 
away,  the  tingling  echo  of  the  prolonged  knell  was  scarce- 
ly audible.  Ere  yet  that  last  tingling  had  finally  subsid- 
ed into  silence,  it  seemed  as  if  it  again  was  awakened  ; 
and  Everard  could  hardly  judge  at  first  whether  a  new 
echo  had  taken  up  the  falling  cadence,  or  whether  some 
other  and  separate  sound  was  disturbing  anew  the  silence 
to  which  the  deep  knell  had,  as  its  voice  ceased,  consign- 
ed the  ancient  mansion  and  the  woods  around  it. 

But  the  doubt  was  soon  cleared  up.  The  musical 
tones,  which  had  mingled  with  the  dying  echoes  of  the 
knell,  seemed  at  first  to  prolong,  and  afterwards  to  sur- 
vive them.  A  wild  strain  of  melody,  beginning  at  a  dis- 
tance, and  growing  louder  as  it  advanced,  seemed  to  pass 
from  room  to  room,  from  cabinet  to  gallery,  from  hall  to 
bower,  through  the  deserted  and  dishonoured  ruins  of  the 
ancient  residence  of  so  many  sovereigns  ;  and,  as  it  ap- 
proached, no  soldier  gave  alarm,  nor  did  any  of  the  nu« 


AVCODSTOCK.  209 

jnerous  guests  of  various  degrees,  who  spent  an  unpleas- 
ant and  terrified  night  in  that  ancient  mansion,  seem  to 
dare  to  announce  to  each  other  the  inexplicable  cause  of 
apprehension. 

Everard's  excited  state  of  mind  did  not  permit  him  to 
be  so  passive.  The  sounds  approached  so  nigh,  that  it 
seemed  they  were  performing,  in  the  very  next  apartment, 
a  solemn  service  for  the  dead,  when  he  gave  the  alarm, 
by  calling  loudly  to  his  attendant  and  friend  Wildrake, 
who  slumbered  in  the  next  chamber  with  only  a  door  be- 
twixt them,  and  even  that  ajar. 

''  Wildrake— Wildrake  !— Up— up  !  Dost  thou  not 
hear  the  alarm  f" 

There  was  no  answer  from  Wildrake,  though  the  mu- 
sical sounds,  which  now  rung  through  the  apartment,  as 
if  the  performers  had  actually  been  within  its  precincts, 
would  have  been  sufficient  to  awaken  a  sleeping  person, 
even  without  the  shout  of  his  comrade  and  patron. 

"  Alarm  ! — Roger  Wildrake — alarm  !"  again  called 
Everard,  getting  out  of  bed  and  grasping  his  weapons. — 
''  Get  a  light,  and  cry  alarm." 

There  was  no  answer.  His  voice  died  away  as  the 
sound  of  the  music  seemed  also  to  die  ;  and  the  same 
soft  sweet  voice,  which  still  to  his  thinking  resembled  that 
of  Alice  Lee,  was  heard  in  his  apartment,  and,  as  he 
thought,  at  no   distance  from  him. 

"  Your  comrade  will  not  answer,"  said  the  low  soft 
voice.  *'  Those  only  hear  the  alarm  whose  consciences 
feel  the  call." 

"Again  this  mumm.ery  !"  said  Everard.  "I  am  bet- 
ter armed  than  I  was  of  late  ;  and  but  for  the  sound  of 
that  voice,  the  speaker  had  bought  his  tiifiing  dear.V 

It  was  singular,  we  may  observe  in  passing,  that  the 
instant  the  distinct  sounds  of  the  human  voice  were  heard 
by  Everard,  all  idea  of  supernatural  interference  was  at 
an  end,  and  the  charm  by  which  he  had  been  formerly 
fettered  appeared  to  be  broken  ;  so  much  is  the  influence 
of  imaginary  or  superstitious  terror  dependent  (so  far  as 

IS*       VOL.    I. 


210 


WOODSTOCK. 


respects  strong  judgments  at  least)  upon  what  is  vague 
or  ambiguous  ;  and  so  readily  do  distinct  tones,  and 
express  ideas,  bring  such  judgments  back  to  the  current 
of  ordinary  life.  The  voice  returned  answer,  as  address- 
ing his  thoughts  as  well  as  his  words. 

"  We  laugh  at  the  weapons  thou  think'st  should  terrify 
us — Over  the  guardians  of  Woodstock  they  have  no  pow- 
er. Fire  if  thou  wilt,  and  try  the  effect  of  thy  weapons. 
But  know,  it  is  not  our  purpose  to  harm  thee — thou  art 
of  a  falcon  breed,  and  noble  in  thy  disposition,  though, 
unreclaimed  and  ill  nurtured,  thou  hauntestwith  kites  and 
carrion  crows.  Wing  thy  flight  from  hence  on  the  mor- 
row, for  if  thou  tarriest  with  the  bats,  owls,  vultures,  and 
ravens,  which  have  thought  to  nestle  here,  thou  wilt  inev- 
itably share  their  fate.  Away  then,  that  these  halls  may 
be  swept  and  garnished  for  reception  of  those  who  have 
a  better  right  to  inhabit  them." 

Everard  answered  in  a  raised  voice. — "  Once  more  I 
w-arn  you,  think  not  to  defy  me  in  vain.  I  am  no  child 
to  be  frightened  by  goblins'  tales  ;  and  no  coward  armed 
as  I  am,  to  be  alarmed  at  the  threats  of  banditti.  If  1 
give  you  a  moment's  indulgence,  it  is  for  the  sake  of  dear 
and  misguided  friends,  who  may  be  concerned  with  this 
dangerous  gambol.  Know,  I  can  bring  a  iroop  of  soldiers 
round  the  castle,  who  will  search  its  most  inward  recesses 
for  the  author  of  this  audacious  frolic  ;  and  if  tliat  search 
should  fail,  it  will  cost  but  a  few  barrels  of  gunpowder 
to  make  the  mansion  a  heap  of  ruins,  and  bury  under 
them  the  authors  of  such  an  ill-judged  pastime." 

"  You  speak  proudly.  Sir  Colonel,"  said  another  voice, 
similar  to  that  harsher  and  stronger  tone  by  which  he  had 
been  addressed  in  the  gallery  ;  "  try  your  courage  in 
this  direction." 

"  You  should  not  dare  me  twice,"  said  Colonel  Eve- 
rard,  "  had  I  a  glimpse  of  light  to  take  aim  by." 

As  he  spoke,  a  sudden  gleam  of  light  was  thrown  with 
a  brilliancy  which  almost  dazzled  the  speaker,  showing 
distinctly  a  form  somewhat  resembling  that  of  Victor  Lee, 
as  represented  in  his  picture,  holding  in  the  one  hand  a 


WOODSTOCK.  211 

lady  compl^ely  veiled,  and  in  the  other  his  leading  staff 
or  truncheon.  Both  figures  were  animated,  and,  as  it 
appeared,   standing  within  six  feet  of  him. 

"  Were  it  not  for  the  woman,"  said  Everard,  "  I  would 
not  be  thus  mortally  dared." 

"  Spare  not  for  the  female  form,  but  do  your  worst," 
.replied  the  same  voice.     "  1  defy  you." 

"  Repeat  your  defiance  when  I  have  counted  thrice," 
said  Everard,  "  and  take  the  punishment  of  your  inso- 
lence. Once — 1  have  cocked  my  pistol, — Twice — I 
never  missed  my  aim — By  all  that  is  sacred,  1  fire  if  you 
do  not  withdraw.  When  I  pronounce  the  next  number, 
I  will  shoot  you  dead  where  you  stand.  1  am  yet  un- 
willing to  shed  blood — I  give  you  another  chance  of  flight 
— once — twice — thrice." 

Everard  aimed  at  the  bosom,  and  discharged  his  pistoK 
The  figure  waved  its  arm  in  an  attitude  of  scorn  ;  and 
a  loud  laugh  arose,  during  which  the  light,  as  gradually 
growing  weaker,  danced  and  glimmered  upon  the  appa- 
rition of  the  aged  knight,  and  then  disappeared.  Ever- 
ard's  life-blood  ran  cold  to  his  heart — "  Had  he  been 
of  human  mould,"  he  thought,  "the  bullet  must  have 
pierced  him — and  I  have  neither  will  nor  power  to  fight 
with  supernatural  beings." 

The  feeling  of  oppression  was  now  so  strong  as  to  be 
actually  sickening.  He  groped  his  way  however  to  the 
fireside,  and  flung  on  the  embers,  which  were  yet  gleam- 
ing, a  handful  of  dry  fuel.  It  presently  blazed  and 
afforded  him  light  to  see  the  room  in  every  direction.  He 
looked  cautiously,  almost  timidly,  around,  and  half  ex- 
pected some  horrible  phantom  to  become  visible.  But 
he  saw  nothing  save  the  old  furniture,  the  reading-desk 
and  other  articles,  which  had  been  left  in  the  same  state 
as  when  Sir  Henry  Lee  departed.  He  felt  an  uncontrol- 
lable desire,  mingled  witii  much  repugnance,  to  look  at 
the  portrait  of  the  ancient  Knight,  which  the  form  he  had 
seen  so  strongly  resembled.  He  hesitated  betwixt  the 
opposing  feelings,  but  at  length  snatched,  with  a  desperate 
resolution,  the  taper  which  he  had  extinguished,  and  re- 


212  WOODSTOCK. 

lighted  it,  ere  the  blaze  of  the  fuel  had  again  died  away. 
He  held  it  up  to  the  ancient  portrait  of  Victor  Lee,  and 
gazed  on  it  with  eager  curiosity,  not  unmingled  with  fear. 
Almost  the  childish  terrors  of  his  earher  days  returned, 
and  he  thought  the  severe  pale  eye  of  the  ancient  war- 
rior followed  his,  and  menaced  him  with  its  displeasure. 
And  although  he  quickly  argued  himself  out  of  such  an 
absurd  belief,  yet  the  mixed  feelings  of  his  mind  were 
expressed  in  words  that  seemed  half  addressed  to  the 
ancient  portrait. 

*'  Soul  of  my  mother's  ancestor,"  he  said,  "  be  it  for 
weal  or  for  woe,  by  designing  men,  or  by  supernatural 
beings,  that  these  ancient  halls  are  disturbed,  1  am  resolv- 
ed to  leave  them  on  the  morrow." 

"  I  rejoice  to  hear  it,  with  all  my  soul,"  said  a  voice  be- 
hind him. 

He  turned,  saw  a  tall  figure  in  white,  with  a  sort  of 
turban  upon  its  head,  and  dropping  the  candle  in  the 
exertion,  he  instantly  grappled  with  it. 

"  Thou  at  least  art  palpable,"  he  said. 

"  Palpable  .'^"  answered  he  whom  he  grasped  so 
strongly — "  'Sdeath,  melhinks  you  might  know  that  with- 
out the  risk  of  choking  me  ;  and  if  you  loose  me  not, 
I'll  show  you  that  two  can  play  at  the  game  of  wrestling." 

"  Roger  Wild  rake  !"  said  Everard,  letting  the  cavalier 
loose,  and  stepping  back. 

"  Roger  Wildrake  t  ay,  truly.  Did  you  take  me  far 
Roger  Bacon,  come  to  help  you  to  raise  the  devil ." — for 
the  place  smells  of  sulphur  consumedly." 

"  It  is  the  pistol  I  fired — did  you  not  hear  it  ?" 

"  Why  yes,  it  was  the  first  thing  waked  me — for  that 
night  cap  which  I  pulled  on,  made  me  sleep  like  a  dor- 
mouse— Pshaw,  I  feel  my  brains  giddy  with  it  yet." 

"  And  wherefore  came  you  not  on  the  instant  ? — 
I  never  needed  help  more." 

"  I  came  as  fast  as  I  could,"  answered  Wildrake  ; 
"  but  it  was  some  time  ere  1  s:ot  my  senses  collected,  for 
I  was  dreaming  of  that  cursed  field  at  Naseby — and  then 


WOODSTOCK. 


213 


the  door  of  my  room  was  shut,  and  hard  to  open,  till  I 
played  the  locksmith  with  my  foot." 

"  How  ?  it  was  open  when  I  went  to  bed,"  said 
Everard. 

"  It  was  locked  when  I  came  out  though,"  said  Wild- 
rake,  "  and  1  marvel  you  heard  me  not  when  I  forced 
it  open." 

*'  My  mind  was  occupied  otherwise,"  said  Everard. 

'Well,"  said  Wildrake,  "  but  what  has  happened  ? — 
'Here  am  I  bolt  upright,  and  ready  to  fight,  if  this  yawning 
fit  will  give  me  leave — Mother  Redcap's  mightiest  is 
weaker  than  I  drank  last  night,  by  a  bushel  to  a  barley- 
corn— I  have  quaffed  the  very  elixir  of  malt — Ha — yaw." 

"  And  some  opiate  besides,  I  should  think,"  said 
Everard. 

"  Very  like — very  hke — less  than  the  pistol-shot  would 
not  waken  me  ;  even  me,  who  with  but  an  ordinary 
grace-cup  sleep  as  lightly  as  a  maiden  on  the  first  of 
May,  when  she  watches  for  the  earliest  beam  to  go  to 
gather  dew.     But  what  are  you  about  to  do  next  .^" 

'*  Nothing,"    answered  Everard. 

"  Nothing  ?"  said  Wildrake  in  surprise. 

"  I  speak  it,"  said  Colonel  Everard,  "  less  for  your 
information,  than  for  that  of  others  who  may  hear  me, 
that  \  will  leave  the  Lodge  this  morning,  and,  if  it  is  pos» 
sible,  remove  the  Commissioners." 

"  Hark,"  said  Wildrake,  "  do  you  not  hear  some 
noise,  like  the  distant  soimd  of  the  applause  of  a  theatre  .'* 
The  goblins  of  the  place  rejoice  in  your  departure." 

"  I  shall  leave  Woodstock,"  said  Everard,  "  to  the 
occupation  of  my  uncle  Sir  Henry  Lee,  and  his  family, 
if  they  choose  to  resume  it  ;  not  that  I  am  frightened 
into  this  as  a  concession  to  the  series  of  artifices  which 
have  been  played  off  on  this  occasion,  but  solely  because 
such  was  my  intention  from  the  beginning.  But  let 
me  warn,"  (he  added,  raising  his  voice,) — "  let  me  warn 
the  parties  concerned  in  this  combination,  that  though  it 
may  pass  off  successfully  on  a  fool  like  Desborough,  a 
visionary  like  Harrison,  a  coward  like  Bletson " 


214 


WOODSTOCK. 


Here  a  voice  distinctly  spoke,  as  standing  near  them 
— "  Or  a. wise,  moderate,  and  resolute  person,  like  Col- 
onel  Everard." 

"  By  Heaven,  the  voice  came  from  the  picture,"  said 
Wildrake,  drawing  his  sword  ;  "  I  will  pink  his  plaited 
armour  for  him." 

"  Offer  no  violence,"  said  Everard,  startled  at  the 
interruption,  but  resuming  with  firmness  what  he  was 
saying, — "  Let  those  engaged  be  aware,  that  however  this 
string  of  artifices  may  be  immediately  successful,  it  must 
when  closely  looked  into,  be  attended  with  the  punish- 
ment of  all  concerned — the  total  demolition  of  Wood- 
stock, and  the  irremediable  downfall  of  the  family  of  Lee. 
Let  all  concerned  think  of  this,  and  desist  in  time. 

He  paused,  and  almost  expected  a  reply,  but  none 
came. 

"It  is  a  very  odd  thing,"  said  Wildrake  ;  "but — yaw- 
ha — my  brain  cannot  compass  it  just  now  ;  it  whirls 
round  like  a  toast  in  a  bowl  of  muscadine  ;  I  must  sit 
down — hew-yaw — and  discuss  it  at  leisure — Gramercyj 
good  elbow-chair." 

So  saying,  he  threw  himself,  or  rather  sank  gradually 
down,  on  a  large  easy-chair,  which  had  been  often  press- 
ed by  the  weight  of  stout  Sir  Henry  Lee,  and  in  an  in- 
stant was  sound  asleep.  Everard  was  far  from  feeling 
the  same  inclination  for  slumber,  yet  his  mind  was  reliev- 
ed of  the  apprehension  of  any  farther  visitation  that  night; 
for  he  considered  his  treaty  to  evacuate  Woodstock,  as 
made  known  to,  and  accepted  in  all  probability,  by  those 
whom  the  intrusion  of  the  Commissioners  had  induced  to 
take  such  singular  measures  for  expelling  them.  His 
opinion,  which  had  for  a  time  bent  towards  a  belief  in 
something  supernatural  in  the  disturbances,  had  now  re- 
turned to  the  more  rational  mode  of  accounting  for  them, 
by  dexterous  combination,  for  which  such  a  mansion  as 
Woodstock  afforded  so  many  facilities. 

He  heaped  the  hearth  with  fuel,  lighted  the  candle, 
and  examining  poor  Wildrake's  situation,  adjusted  him  as 
easily  in  the  chair  as  he  could,  the  cavalier  stirring  his 


WOODSTOCK.  215 

limbs  no  more  than  an  infant.  His  situation  went  far,  in 
his  patron's  opinion,  to  infer  trick  and  confederacy,  for 
ghosts  have  no  occasion  to  drug  men's  possets.  He  threw 
himseh'  on  the  bed,  and  while  he  thought  these  strange 
circumstances  over,  a  sweet  and  low  strain  of  music  stole 
through  the  chamber,  the  words  "  Good  night — good 
night — good  night,"  thrice  repeated,  each  time  in  a  softer 
and  more  distant  tone,  seeming  to  assure  him  that  the 
goblins  and  he  were  at  truce,  if  not  at  peace,  and  that  he 
had  no  disturbance  to  expect  that  night.  He  had  scarce- 
ly the  courage  to  call  out  a  "  good  night  ;"  for,  after  all 
his  conviction  of  the  existence  of  a  trick,  it  was  so  well 
performed  as  to  bring  with  it  a  feeling  of  fear,  just  like 
what  an  audience  feel  during  the  performance  of  a  tragic 
scene,  which  they  know  to  be  unreal,  and  which  yet  af- 
fects their  passions  by  its  near  approach  to  nature.  Sleep 
overtook  him  at  last,  and  left  him  not  till  broad  daylight 
on  the  ensuing  morning. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

And  yonder  shines  Aurora's  harhineer, 

At  whose  approach  ghosts,  wandering  here  and  there, 

Troop  home  to  church-yard 

Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

With  the  fresh  air,  and  the  rising  morning,  every 
feeling  of  the  preceding  night  had  passed  away  from 
Colonel  Everard's  mind,  excepting  wonder  how  the  ef- 
fects he  had  witnessed  could  be  produced.  He  examin- 
ed the  whole  room,  sounding  bolt,  floor,  and  wainscot, 
with  his  knuckles  and  cane,  but  was  unable  to  discern 
any  secret  passages  ;  while  the  door  secured  by  a  strong 
cross  bolt,  and  the  lock  besides,  remained  as  firm  as  when 
he  had  fastened  it  on  the  preceding  evening.  The  ap- 
parition resembling  Victor  Lee  nC^t  called  his  attention. 


216  WOODSTOCK. 

Ridiculous  stories  had  been  often  circulated,  of  this  fig- 
ure, or  one  exactly  resembling  it,  having  been  met  with 
by  night  among  the  waste  apartments  and  corridors  of 
the  old  palace ;  and  Markham  Everard  had  often  heard 
such  in  his  childhood.  He  was  angry  to  recollect  his 
own  deficiency  of  courage,  and  the  thrill  which  he  felt 
on  the  preceding  night,  when  by  confederacy,  doubtless, 
such  an  object  was  placed  before  his  eyes. 

"  Surely,"  he  said,  "  this  fit  of  childish  folly  could  not 
make  me  miss  my  aim — more  likely  that  the  bullet  had 
been  withdrawn  clandestinely  from  my  pistol." 

He  examined  that  which  was  undischarged — he  found 
the  bullet  in  it.  He  investigated  the  apartment  opposite 
to  the  point  at  which  he  had  fired,  and,  at  five  feet  from 
the  floor  in  a  direct  line,  between  the  bedside  and  the 
place  where  the  appearances  had  been  seen,  a  pistol-ball 
had  recently  buried  itself  in  the  wainscot.  He  had  little 
doubt,  therefore,  that  he  had  fired  in  a  just  direction  ; 
and  indeed  to  have  arrived  at  the  place  where  it  was 
lodged,  the  bullet  must  have  passed  through  the  appear- 
ance at  which  he  aimed,  and  proceeded  point  blank  to 
the  wall  beyond.  This  was  mysterious,  and  induced  him 
to  doubt  whether  the  art  of  witchcraft  or  conjuration  had 
not  been  called  in  to  assist  the  machinations  of  those 
daring  conspirators,  who,  being  themselves  mortal,  might, 
nevertheless  according  to  the  universal  creed  of  the  times, 
have  invoked  and  obtained  assistance  from  the  inhabitants 
of  another  world. 

His  next  investigation  respected  the  picture  of  Victor 
Lee  itself.  He  examined  it  minutely  as  he  stood  on  the 
floor  before  it,  and  compared  its  pale,  shadowy,  faintly- 
traced  outlines,  its  faded  colours,  the  stern  repose  of  the 
eye,  and  deathlike  pallidness  of  the  countenance,  with  its 
different  aspect  on  the  preceding  night,  when  illuminated 
by  the  artificial  light  which  fell  upon  it,  while  it  left  every 
other  part  of  the  room  in  coniparative  darkness.  The 
features  seemed  to  have  an  unnatural  glow,  while  the  rising 
and  the  falling  of  the  flame  in  the  chimney  gave  the  head 
and  limbs  something  which  resembled  the  appearance  of 


WOODSTOCK.  217 

actual  motion.  Now,  seen  by  day,  it  was  a  mere  pic- 
ture of  the  hard  and  ancient  school  of  Holbien  ;  for- 
merly, it  seemed  for  the  moment  something  more.  De- 
termined to  get  to  the  bottom  of  this  contrivance  if 
possible,  Everard  by  the  assistance  of  a  table  and  chair, 
examined  the  portrait  still  more  closely,  and  endeavoured 
to  ascertain  the  existence  of  any  private  spring  by  which 
it  might  be  slipt  aside, — a  contrivance  not  unfrequent  in 
ancient  buildings,  wiiich  usually  abounded  with  means  of 
access  and  escape,  communicated  to  none  but  the  lords 
of  the  castle,  or  their  immediate  confidants.  But  the 
pannel  on  which  Victor  Lee  was  painted  was  firmly  fixed 
in  the  wainscoting  of  the  apartment,  of  which  it  made  a 
part,  and  the  Colonel  satisfied  himself  that  it  could  not 
have  been  used  for  the  purpose  which  he  had  suspected. 

He  next  aroused  his  faithful  squire  Wildrake,  uho, 
notwithstanding  his  deep  share  of  the  "  blessedness  of 
sleep,"  bad  scarce  even  yet  got  rid  of  the  efiects  of  the 
grace-cup  of  the  preceding  evening.  "  It  was  the  re- 
ward," according  to  his  own  view  of  the  matter,  "  of 
his  temperance  ;  one  single  draught  having  made  him 
sleep  more  late  and  more  sound  than  a  matter  of  half-a- 
dozen,  or  from  thence  to  a  dozen  pulls,  would  have  done, 
when  he  was  guilty  of  the  enormity  of  rere-suppers,*  and 
of  drinking  deep  after  them." 

"Had  your  temperate  draught,"  said  Everard,  "been 
but  a  thouiiht  more  stronslv  seasoned,  Wildrake,  thou 
hadst  slept  so  sound  that  the  last  trump  only  could  have 
waked  thee." 

"  And  then,"  answered  Wildrake,  "  I  should  have 
waked  with  a  headache,  Mark  ;  for  I  see  my  modest  sip 
has  not  exempted  me  from  that  epilogue. — But  let  us  go 
forth   and  see  how  the  night,  which   we  have   passed  so 

*  Rere-siippers  (qvasi  anriere)  h«»long^ed  to  a  species  of  luxury  introduced  in 
the  jolly  Havsof  Kins:  James's  extra vnsranoe.  and  continued  through  the  >;iib- 
!»equem  reisrn.  The  supper  took  place  at  an  early  hour,  si.x  or  seven  o'cl<>(  k  at 
latest — ihe^rere-supper  was  a  postliminary  banquet,  a  hors  iVacurre,  which 
made  its  appearance  at  ten  or  eleven,  aud  sened  as  an  apology  for  prolongiug 
»he  enU'rtainnient  till  midnight 
19       VOL.     I. 


218  WOODSTOCK. 

strangely,  has  been  spent  by  the  rest  of  them.  T  suspect 
they  are  all  right  willing  to  evacute  Woodstock,  unless 
they  have  either  rested  better  than  we,  or  at  least  been 
more  lucky  in  lodgings." 

"  In  that  case,  1  will  despatch  thee  down  to  Joceline's 
hut,  to  negotiate  the  re-entrance  of  Sir  Henry  Lee  and 
his  family  into  their  old  apartments,  where,  my  interest 
with  the  General  being  joined  with  the  indifferent  lepute 
of  the  place  itself,  I  think  they  have  little  chance  of  being 
disturbed  either  by  the  present,  or  by  any  new  Conjmis- 
sioners." 

"  But  how  are  they  to  defend  themselves  against  the 
fiends,  my  gallant  Colonel  ?"  said  Wildrake.  "  Me- 
thinks,  had  I  an  interest  in  yonder  pretty  girl,  such  as 
thou  dost  boast,  1  should  be  loath  to  expose  her  to  the 
terrors  of  a  residence  at  Woodstock,  where  these  devils 
— 1  beg  their  pardon,  for  1  suppose  they  hear  every  word 
we  say — these  merry  goblins — make  such  gay  work  from 
twilight  till  morning." 

"  My  dear  Wildrake,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  I,  as  well 
as  you,  believe  it  possible  that  our  speech  may  be  over- 
heard ;  but  I  care  not,  and  will  speak  my  mind  plainly. 
1  trust  Sir  Henry  and  Alice  are  not  engaged  in  this  silly 
plot ;  I  cannot  reconcile  it  with  the  pride  of  the  one,  the 
modesty  of  the  other,  or  the  good  sense  of  both,  that  any 
motive  could  engage  them  in  so  strange  a  conjunction. 
But  the  fiends  are  all  of  your  own  political  persuasion, 
Wildrake,  all  true-blue  cavaliers  ;  and  1  am  convinced, 
that  Sir  Henry  and  Alice  Lee,  though  they  be  unconnect- 
ed with  them,  have  not  the  slightest  cause  to  be  appre- 
hensive of  their  goblin  machinations.  Besides,  Sir 
Henry  and  Joceline  must  know  every  corner  about  the 
place  :  it  will  be  far  more  difficult  to  play  off  any  ghostly 
machinery  upon  him  than  upon  strangers.  But  let  us 
to  our  toilette,  and  when  water  and  brush  has  done  its 
work,  we  will  inquire  what  is  next  to  be  done." 

"  Nay,  that  wretched  puritan's  garb  of  mine  is  hardly 
worth  brushing,"  said  Wildrake  ;  "  and  but  for  this  hun- 
dred weight  of  rusty  iron,  with  which  thou  liast  bedizened 


WOODSTOCK.  219 

me,  I  look  more  like  a  bankrupt  Quaker  than  anything 
else.  But  I'll  make  z/ow  as  spruce  as  ever  was  a  canting 
rogue  of  your  party." 

So  saying,  and  humming  at  the  same  time  the  cavalier 
lune, — 

Though  for  a  time  we  see  Whitehall, 
With  cobwebs  hung  around  the  wall, 
Yet  Heaven  shall  make  amends  for  all, 

When  the  King  shall  enjoy  his  own  again, 

'*Thou  forgettest  who  are  without,"  said  Colonel 
Everard. 

"  No — I  remember  who  are  within,"  replied  his  friend. 
*'  I  only  sing  to  n)y  merry  goblins,  who  will  like  me  all 
the  better  for  it.  Tush,  man,  the  devils  are  my  bonos 
socios,  and  when  I  see  l!iem,  1  will  warrant  they  prove 
such  roarins;  boys  as  I  knew  when  1  served  under  Lum- 
ford  and  Goring,  fellows  with  long  nails  that  nothing  es- 
caped, bottomless  stomachs  that  nothing  filled, — mad  for 
pillaging,  ranting,  drinking,  and  fighting, — sleeping  rough 
on  the  trenches,  and  dying  stubbornly  in  their  boots. 
Ah  !  these  merry  days  are  gone.  Well,  it  is  the  fashion 
to  make  a  grave  face  on't  among  cavaliers,  and  especially 
the  parsons  that  have  lost  their  tithe-pigs  ;  but  1  was  fitted 
for  the  element  of  the  time,  and  never  did  or  can  desire 
merrier  days  than  T  had  during  that  same  barbarous, 
bloody,  and  unnatural  rebellion." 

'*  Thou  wert  ever  a  wild  sea-bird,  Roger,  even  accord- 
ing to  your  name  ;  likins:  the  gale  better  than  the  calm, 
the  boisterous  ocean  better  than  the  smooth  lake,  and 
your  rough,  wild  struggle  against  the  wind,  than  daily  food, 
ease,  and  quiet." 

"  Pshaw  !  a  fig  for  your  smooth  lake,  and  your  old 
woman  to  feed  me  with  brewer's  grains,  and  the  poor 
drake  obliged  to  come  swattering  whenever  she  whistles  ! 
Everard,  I  like  to  feel  the  wind  rustle  against  my  pinions, 
— now  diving,  now  on  the  crest  of  the  wave,  now  in  ocean, 
now  in  sky — that  is  the  wild  drake's  joy,  my  grave  one  ! 
And  in  the  Civil  War  so  it  u  ent  with  us — down  in  one 


220 


WOODSTOCK. 


county,  up  in  another,  beaten  lo-day,  victorious  to-mor- 
row— now  starving  in  some  barren  leaguer — now  revel- 
ling in  a  Presbyterian's  pantry — his  cellars,  his  plate- 
chest,  his  old  judicial  thumb-ring,  his  pretty  serving- 
wench,  all  at  command  !" 

"  Hush,  friend,"  said  Everard  ;  "  remember  I  hold 
that  persuasion." 

"  xMore  the  pity,  Mark,  more  the  pity,"  said  Wildrake  ; 
"but,  as  you  say,  it  is  needless  talking  of  it.  Let  us 
e'en  go  and  see  how  your  Presbyterian  pastor,  Mr.  Hold- 
enough,  has  fared,  and  whether  he  has  proved  more  able 
to  foil  the  foul  Fiend  than  have  you  his  disciple  and 
auditor." 

They  left  the  apartment  accordingly,  and  were  over- 
whelmed with  the  various  incoherent  accounts  of  senti- 
Dels  and  others,  all  of  whom  had  seen  or  heard  something 
extraordinary  in  the  course  of  the  night.  It  is  needless 
to  describe  particularly  the  various  rumours  which  each 
contributed  to  the  common  stock,  with  the  greater  alac- 
rity that  in  such  cases  their  seems  always  to  be  a  sort  of 
disgrace  in  not  having  seen  or  suffered  as  much  as  others. 

The  most  moderate  of  the  narrators  only  talked  of 
sounds  like  the  mewing  of  a  cat,  or  the  growling  of  a  dog, 
especially  the  squeaking  of  a  pig.  They  heard  also  as 
if  it  had  been  nails  driven  and  saws  used,  and  the  clash- 
ing of  fetters,  and  the  rustling  of  silk  gowsus,  and  the 
notes  of  nmsic,  and  in  short  all  sorts  of  sound  which 
have  nothing  to  do  with  each  other.  Others  swore  they 
had  smelt  savours  of  various  kinds,  chiefly  bituminous, 
indicating  a  Satanic  derivation  ;  others  did  not  indeed 
swear,  but  protested,  to  visions  of  men  in  armours,  horses 
without  heads,  asses  with  horns,  and  cows  with  six  legs, 
not  to  mention  black  figures,  whose  cloven  hoofs  gave 
plain  information  what  realm  they  belonged  to. 

But  these  strongly-attested  cases  of  nocturnal  disturb- 
ances among  the  sentinels  had-  been  so  general,  as  to 
prevent  alarm  and  succour  on  any  particular  point,  so 
that  those  who  were  on  duty  called  in  vain  on  the  corps- 
de-garde,  who  were  tremblins:  on  their  own  post ;  and  ai* 


WOODSTOCK. 


22i 


alert  enemy  might  have  done  complete  execution  on  the 
whole  garrison.  But  amid  this  general  alert,  no  violence 
appeared  to  be  meant,  and  annoyance,  not  injury,  seem- 
ed to  have  been  the  goblin's  object,  excepting  in  the  case 
of  one  poor  fellow,  a  trooper,  who  had  followed  Harrison 
in  half  his  battles,  and  now  was  sentinel  in  that  very  ves- 
tibule upon  which  Everard  had  recommended  them  to 
mount  a  guard.  He  had  presented  his  carabine  at  some- 
thing which  came  suddenly  upon  him,  when  it  was  wrested 
out  of  his  hands,  and  he  himself  knocked  down  with  the 
butt-end  of  it.  His  broken  head,  and  the  drenched  bed- 
ding of  Desborough,  upon  whom  a  tub  of  ditch-water 
had  been  emptied  during  his  sleep,  were  the  only  pieces 
of  real  evidence  to  attest  the  disturbances  of  the  night. 
The  reports  from  Harrison's  apartment  were  as  deliv- 
ered by  Master  Tomkins,  that  truly  the  General  had 
passed  the  night  undisturbed,  though  there  was  still  upon 
him  a  deep  sleep,  and  a  folding  of  the  hands  to  slumber, 
from  which   Everard   arsrued   that  the  machinators   had 

o 

esteemed  Harrison's  part  of  the  reckoning  sufficiently 
paid  off  on  the  preceding  evening. 

He  then  proceeded  to  the  apartment  doubjy  garrisoned 
by  the  worshipful  Desborough,  and  the  philosophical 
Bletson.  They  were  both  up  and  dressing  themselves, 
the  former  open-mouthed  in  his  feelings  of  fear  and 
suffering.  Indeed,  no  sooner  had  Everard  entered,  than 
the  ducked  and  dismayed  Colonel  made  a  dismal  com- 
plaint of  the  way  he  had  spent  the  night,  and  murmured 
not  a  little  against  his  worshipful  kinsman,  for  imposing 
a  task  upon  him  which  inferred  so  much  annoyance. 

"  Could  not  his  Excellency,  my  kinsman  Noll,"  he 
said,  "  have  given  his  poor  relative  and  brother-in-law 
a  sop  somewhere  else,  than  out  of  this  Woodstock,  which 
seems  to  be  the  devil's  ovai  porridge-pot  f  1  cannot  sup 
broth  with  the  Devil  ;  I  have  no  long  spoon — not  I. 
Could  he  not  liave  qunrtered  me  in  some  quiet  corner, 
and  given  this  haunted  ph:ce  to  seme  of  his  pie-achers 
and  pravers,  who  know  the  Bible  as  well  as  the  muster- 

19*       VOL.    I. 


222 


WOODSTOCK. 


roll  ?  whereas  I  know  the  four  hoofs  of  a  clean-going 
nag,  or  the  points  of  a  team  of  oxen,  better  than  all  the 
books  of  Moses.  But  I  will  give  it  over,  at  once  and  for 
ever ;  hopes  of  earthly  gain  shall  never  make  me  run  the 
risk  of  being  carried  away  bodily  by  the  devil,  besides 
being  set  upon  my  head  one  whole  night  and  soused  with 
ditch-water  the  next — No,  no — 1  am  too  w^ise  for  that." 

Master  Bletson  had  a  different  part  to  act.  He  com- 
plained of  no  personal  annoyances;  on  the  contrary,  de- 
clared he  should  have  slept  as  well  as  ever  he  did  in  his 
life,  but  for  the  abominable  disturbances  around  him,  of 
men  calling  to  arms  every  half  hour,  when  so  much  as  a 
cat  trotted  by  one  of  their  posts — He  would  rather,  he 
said,  "  have  slept  among  a  whole  Sabbath  of  witches,  if 
such  creatures  could  be  found." 

"  Then  you  think  there  are  no  such  things  as  appari- 
tions, Master  Bletson  ?"  said  Everard.  "  1  used  to  be 
sceptical  on  the  subject  ;  but  on  my  life,  to-night  has 
been  a  strange  one." 

"  Dreams,  dreams,  dreams,  my  simple  Colonel,"  said 
Bletson,  though  his  pale  face,  and  shaking  limbs,  belied 
the  assumed  courage  with  which  he  spoke.  "  Old 
Chaucer,  sir,  hath  told  us  the  real  moral  on't — He  was 
an  old  frequenter  of  the  forest  of  Woodstock,  here " 

"  Chaser  ?"  said  Desborough  ;  "  some  huntsman  be-» 
like,  by  his  name — Does  he  walk,  like  Hearne  at  Wind- 
sor r 

"  Chaucer,"  said  Bletson,  "  my  dear  Desborough,  is 
one  of  those  wonderful  fellows,  as  Colonel  Everard 
knows,  who  live  many  a  hundred  years  after  they  are 
buried,  and  whose  words  haunt  our  ears  after  their  bones 
are  long  mouldered  in  the  dust." 

"Ay,  ay  !  well — I  for  one  desire  his  room  rather  than 
his  company — one  of  your  conjurors,  I  warrant  him. 
But  what  says  he  to  the  matter.^" 

"  Only  a  slight  spell,  which  I  will  take  the  freedom  to 
repeat  to  Colonel  Everard,"  said  Bletson;  "but  which 
would  be  as  bad   as  Greek  to  thee,  Desborough. — Old 


WOODSTOCK.  223 

Geoffrey  lays  the  whole  blame  of  our  nocturnal  distur- 
bance on  superfluity  of  humours, 

'  Which  causen  folk  to  dred  in  their  dreams 
Of  arrowes,  and  of  lire  with  red  gleams, 
Right  as  the  humour  of  Melancholy 
Causeth  many  a  man  in  sleep  to  cry 
For  fear  of  great  bulls  and  bears  black,- 
And  others  that  black  devils  will  them  take.'  " 

While  he  was  thus  declaiming;,  Everard  observed  a 
book  sticking  out  from  beneath  the  pillow  of  the  bed 
lately  occupied  by  the  honourable  member. 

"Is  that  Chaucer.^"  he  said,  making  to  the  volume 
— "  I  would  like  to  look  at  the  passage " 

"  Chaucer — "  said  Bletson,  hastening  to  interfere  ; 
"  no — that  is  Lucretius,  my  darling  Lucretius.  I  cannot 
let  you  see  it — I  have  some  private  marks." 

'But  by  this  time  Everard  had  the  book  in  his  hand. 
"  Lucretius  !"  he  said  ;  "  no,  blaster  Bletson — this  is 
not  Lucretius,  but  a  fitter  comforter  in  dread  or  in  dan- 
ger— Why  should  you  be  ashamed  of  it  f — Only,  Blet- 
son, instead  of  resting  your  head,  if  you  can  but  anchor 
your  heart  upon  this  voluine,  it  may  serve  you  in  better 
stead  than  Lucretius  or  Chaucer  either." 

"  Why,  w^hat  book  is  it  f"  said  Bletson,  his  pale  cheek 
colouring  with  the  shame  of  detection. — "  Oh,  the  Bi- 
ble," throwing  it  down  contemptuously — "  some  book  of 
my  fellow  Gibeon's — these  Jews  have  been  always  super- 
stitious— ever  since  Juvenal's  time,  thou  knowest — 

'  Qualiacunque  voles  Jud^ei  somnia  vendunt.' 

He  left  me  the  old  book  for  a  spell,  I  warrant  you,  for  'tis 
a  w^ell  meaning  fool." 

"  He  would  scarce  have  left  the  New  Testament,  as 
well  as  the  old,"  said  Everard.  "  Come,  my  dear  Blet- 
son, do  not  be  ashamed  of  the  wisest  thing  you  ever  did 
in  your  life,  supposing  you  took  your  Bible  in  an  hour  of 
apprehension,  wiih  a  view  to  profit  by  the  contents." 


224  WOODSTOCK. 

Bletson's  vanity  was  so  much  galled,  that  it  overcame 
his  constitutional  cowardice.  His  little  thin  fingers  quiv- 
ered for  eagerness,  his  neck  and  cheeks  were  as  red  as 
scarlet,  and  his  articulation  was  as  thick  and  vehement  as 
— in  short,  as  if  he  had  been  no  philosopher. 

*'  Master  Everard,"  he  said,  "  you  are  a  man  of  the 
sword,  sir — and,  sir,  you  seem  to  suppose  yourself  enti- 
tled to  say  whatever  comes  into  your  mind  with  respect 
to  civilians,  sir — But  I  would  have  you  remember,  sir, 
that  there  are  bounds  beyond  Vvhich  human  patience  may 
be  urged,  sir, — and  jests  which  no  man  of  honour  will 
endure,  sir, — and,  therefore,  I  expect  an  apology  for 
your  present  language.  Colonel  Everard,  and  this  unman- 
nerly jesting,  sir — or  you  may  chance  to  hear  from  me 
in  a  way  that  will  not  please  you." 

Everard  could  not  help  smiling  at  this  explosion  of 
valour,  eno:endered  bv  irritated  self-love. 

"  Look  you,  IMiister  Bletson,"  he  said,  *'  I  have  been 
a  soldier,  that  is  true,  but  I  vvas  never  a  bloody-minded 
one  ;  and  as  a  Christian,  I  am  unwilling  to  enlarge  the 
kingdom  of  darkness  by  sending  a  new  vassal  thither  be- 
fore his  time.  If  Heaven  gives  you  time  to  repent,  I  see 
no  reason  why  my  hand  should  deprive  you  of  it,  which, 
were  we  to  have  a  rencounter,  would  be  your  fate  in  the 
thrust  of  a  sword,  or  the  pullins;  of  a  trigger — 1  therefore 
prefer  to  apologize  ;  and  i  call  Desborough,  if  he  has 
recovered  his  vv?ils,  to  boar  evi^ipnce  that  I  do  apologize 
for  having  suspected  yon,  who  are  completely  the  sl^ve 
of  your  own  vanity,  of  any  tendency,  however  slight, 
towards  grace  or  good  sense.  And  I  farther  apologize 
for  the  time  I  hav€  wasted  in  endeavouring  to  wash  an 
Ethiopian  white,  or  in  recommending  rational  inquiry  to 
a  self-willed  atheist." 

Bletson,  overjoyed  at  the  turn  the  matter  had  taken — 
for  the  defiance  was  scarce  out  of  his  mouth  ere  he 
began  to  trembje  for  the  consequences — answered  with 
great  eagerness  and  civility  of  manner, — "  Nay,  dearest 
Colonel,  say  no  more  of  it — an  apolosy  is  all  that  is 
necessary  among  men  of  honour — it  neither  leaves  dis- 


WOODSTOCK.  225 

honour  with  him  who  asks  it,  nor  infers  degradation  on 
him  who  makes  it." 

"  Not  such  an  apology  as  I  have  made,  I  trust,"  said 
the  Colonel. 

"  No,  no — not  in  the  least — one  apology  serves  me 
just  as  well  as  another,  and  Desborough  will  bear  wit- 
ness you  have  made  one,  and  that  is  all  there  can  be 
said  on  the  subject." 

"  Master  Desborough  and  you  will  take  care  how  the 
matter  is  reported,  i  dare  say,  and  I  only  recommend  to 
both,  that,  if  mentioned  at  all,  it  may  be  told  correctly." 

"  Nay,  nay,  we  will  not  mention  it  at  all,"  said  Blet- 
son,  *'  we  will  forget  it  from  this  moment.  Only,  never 
suppose  me  capable  of  superstitious  weakness.  Had  1 
been  afraid  of  an  apparent  and  real  danger — why  such 
fear  is  natural  to  man — and  1  will  not  deny  that  the  mood 
of  mind  may  have  happened  to  ine  as  well  as  to  others. 
But  to  he  thought  capable  of  resorting  to  spells,  and 
sleeping  with  books  under  my  pillow  to  secure  myself 
against  ghosts,  on  my  word,  it  was  enough  to  provoke 
one  to  quarrel,  for  the  moment,  with  his  very  best  friend. 
— And  now,  Colonel,  what  is  to  be  done,  and  how  is 
our  duty  to  \>e  executed  at  this  accursed  place  .**  If  I 
should  get  such  a  wetting  as  Desborough's,  why  I  should 
die  of  catarrh,  though  you  see  it  hurts  him  no  more  than 
a  bucket  of  water  thrown  over  a  post-horse.  You  are, 
I  presume,  a  brother  in  our  commission,  how  are  you  of 
opinion  we  should  proceed  ?" 

'•  Why,  in  good  time  here  comes  Harrison,"  said 
Everard,  "  and  I  will  lay  my  commission  from  the  Lord 
General  before  you  all ;  which,  as  you  see.  Colonel  Des- 
borough, commands  you  to  desist  fr^  acting  on  your 
present  authority,  and  intimates  his  pleasure  accordingly, 
that  you  withdraw  from  this  place." 

Desborough  took  the  paper  and  examined  the  signa- 
ture.— "  It  is  Noll's  signature,  sure  enough "  said  he, 

dropping  his  under  jaw  ;  "only,  every  time  of  late  he 
has  made  the  Oliver  as  large  as  a  giant,  while  the  Crom- 
well creeps  after  like  a  dwarf,  as  if  the  surname  were 


226 


>VOODSTOCK. 


like  to  disappear  one  of  these  days  altogether.  But  is 
his  Excellency,  our  kinsman,  Noll  Cromwell  (since  he 
has  the  surname  yet,)  so  unreasonable  as  to  think  his 
relations  and  friends  are  to  be  set  upon  their  heads  till 
they  have  the  crick  in  their  neck — drenched  as  if  they 
had  been  plunged  in  a  horse-pond — frightened,  day  and 
night,  by  all  sorts  of  devils,  witches,  and  fairies,  and  get 
not  a  penny  of  smart  money  ?  Adzooks,  (forgive  me  for 
swearing.)  if  that's  the  case  1  had  belter  home  to.  my 
farm,  and  mind  team  and  herd,  than  dangle  after  such 
a  thankless  person,  though  I  have  wived  his  sister.  She 
was  poor  enough  when  1  took  her,  for  as  high  as  Noll 
holds  his  head  now." 

"It  is  not  my  purpose,"  said  Bletson,  "to  stir  debate 
in  this  honourable  meeting  ;  and  no  one  will  doubt  the 
veneration  and  attachment  which  1  bear  to  our  noble 
General,  whom  the  current  of  events,  and  his  own  match- 
less qualities  of  courage  and  constancy,  have  raised  so 
high  in  these  deplorable  days. — If  I  were  to  term  him 
a  direct  and  immediate  emanation  of  the  Animus  Mundi 
itself — something  which  Nature  had  produced  in  her 
proudest  hour,  while  exerting  herself,  as  is  her  law,  for 
the  preservation  of  the  creatures  to  whom  she  has  given 
existence — I  should  scarce  exhaust  the  ideas  which  I  en- 
tertain of  him.  Always  protesting,  that  I  am  by  no 
means  to  be  held  as  adjnitting,  but  merely  as  granting 
for  the  sake  of  tirgument,  the  possible  existence  of  that 
species  of  emanation,  or  exhalation,  from  the  Animus 
Mundi,  of  which  I  have  made  mention.  1  appeal  to 
you.  Colonel  Desborough,  who  are  his  Excellency's  re- 
lation— to  you.  Colonel  Everard,  who  hold  the  dearer 
title  of  liis  friend,  whether  I  have  overrated  my  zeal  in 
his  behalf." 

Everard  bowed  at  this  pause,  but  Desborough  gave  a 
more  complete  authentication.  "  Nay,  I  can  bear  wit- 
ness to  that.  I  have  seen  when  you  were  willing  to  tie 
his  points  or  brush  his  cloak,  or  the  like — and  to  be 
treftted  thus  ungratefully — and  gudgeoned  of  the  oppor- 
tunities which  had  been  given  you " 


>VOOD  STOCK. 


227 


**  It  is  not  for  that,"  said  Bletson,  waving  liis   hand 
gracelully.     "  You  do  me  wrong,  Master  Desboiough — 
you  do  indeed,  kind  sir — although  1  know   you  niea-it  it 
not — No,  sir — no  partial  consideration  of  private  interest 
prevailed  on  me  to  undertake  this  charge.     Jtwas  con- 
ferred on    me  by    the  Parliament  of  England,  in  uhose 
name  this  war  commenced,  and  by  the  Council  of  State, 
who  are  the  conservators  of  England's  liberty.     And  the 
chance  and  serene  hope  of  serving  the  country,  the  con- 
fidence that  1 — and  you,  JMaster  Desborough — and  you, 
worthy  General  Harrion — superior,  as  1  am,  to  all  selfish 
considerations — to  which  I  am  sure  you  also,  good  Colonel 
Everard,  would  be  superior,  had  you  been  named  in  this 
Commission,  as  1  would  to  Heaven  you  had — 1   say,  the 
hope  of  serving  the  country,  with  the  aid  of  such   re- 
spectable associates,  one  and  all  of  them — as  well  as  you, 
Colonel   Everard,    supposing  you   to  have   been    of  the 
number,  induced  me  to  accept  of  this  opportunity,  where- 
by I  might,  gratuitously,  with  your  assistance,  render  so 
much  advantage  to  our  dear  mother  the  Commonwealth 
of  England. — Such  was  my  hope — my  trust — my  confi- 
dence.    And  now  comes  my  Lord  General's  warrant  to 
dissolve  the  authority  by  which  we  are  entided  to  act. 
Gentlemen,  I  ask  this  honourable  meeting,  (with  all  re- 
spect  to  his  Excellency,)  whether  his   Commission   be 
paramount  to   that  from  which  he  himself  directly  holds 
his  commission  ^  No  one  will  say  so.     I  ask  whether  he 
has  climbed   into  the  seat  from  which  the  late  Man   de- 
scended, or  hath  a  great  seal,  or  means  to  proceed  by 
prerogative  in  such  a  case  ?     I  cannot  see  reason  to  be- 
lieve it,  and  therefore  1  must  resist  such  doctrine.     I  am 
in  your  judgment,  my  brave  and  honourable  colleagues ; 
but,  touching  my  own   poor  opinion,  I  feel  myself  under 
the  unhappy  necessity  of  proceeding  in  our  commission, 
as  if  the  interruption  had  not  taken  place  ;  with  this  addi- 
tion, that  the  Board  of  Sequestrators  should  sit,  by  day, 
at  this  same  Lodge  of  Woodstock,  but  that,  to  reconcile 
the  minds  of  weak  brethren,  who  may  be   afflicted    by 
superstitious  rumours,  as  well  as  to  avoid  any  practice  on 


228  AVOOD  STOCK. 

our  persons  by  malignants,  who,  I  am  convinced,  are  busy 
in  tliis  neighbourhood,  we  should  remove  our  sittings  after 
sunset  to  the  George  Inn,  in  the  neighbouring  borough." 

"  Good  xMaster  Bletson,"  rephed  Colonel  Everard, 
"  it  is  not  for  me  to  reply  to  you  ;  but  you  may  know  in 
what  characters  this  army  of  England  and  their  General 
write  their  authority.  I  fear  me  the  annotation  on  this 
precept  of  the  General,  will  be  expressed  by  the  march 
of  a  troop  of  horse  from  Oxford  to  see  it  executed.  I 
believe  there  are  orders  out  for  that  effect  ;  and  you 
know  by  late  experience,  that  the  soldier  will  obey  his 
General  equally  against  King  and  Parliament." 

"  That  obedience  is  conditional,"  said  Harrison,  start- 
ing fiercely  up.  "  Know'st  thou  not,  Markham  Everard, 
that  1  have  followed  the  man  Cromwell  as  close  as  the 
bull-dog  follows  his  master  ? — and  so  I  will  yet ; — but  I 
am  no  spaniel,  either  to  be  beaten,  or  to  have  the  food  I 
have  earned  snatched  from  me,  as  if  1  w^ere  a  vile  cur, 
whose  wages  are  a  whippino;,  and  free  leave  to  wear  ray 
own  skin.  I  looked,  amongst  the  three  of  us,  that  we 
might  honestly,  and  piously,  and  with  advantage  to  the 
Commonw^ealth,  have  gained  out  of  this  commission 
three,  or  it  may  be  fiv^e  thousand  pounds.  And  does 
Cromwell  imagine  I  will  part  with  it  for  a  rough  word  ^ 
No  man  goeth  a  warfare  on  his  own  charges.  He  that 
serves  the  altar  must  live  by  the  altar — and  the  saints 
must  have  means  to  })rovide  them  with  good  harness  and 
fresh  horses  against  the  unsealing  and  the  pouring  forth. 
Does  Cromwell  think  I  am  so  much  of  a  tame  tiger  as 
to  permit  him  to  rend  from  me  at  pleasure  the  miserable 
dole  he  hath  thrown  me  ?  Of  a  surety  T  will  resist  ;  and 
the  men  who  are  here,  being  chiefly  of  my  own  regiment 
— men  who  wait,  and  who  expect,  with  lamps  burning 
and  loins  girded,  and  each  one  his  weapon  bound  upon 
his  thigh,  will  aid  me  to  make  this  house  good  against 
every  assault — ay,  even  against  Cromwell  himself,  until 
the  latter  coming — Selah  !  Selah  ! " 


WOODSTOCK. 


229 


"  And  I,"  said  Desborougb,  "  will  levy  troops  and 
protect  your  out-quarters,  not  choosing  at  present  to  close 
myself  up  in  a  garrison " 

"And  1,"  said  Bletson,  "will  do  my  part,  and  hie 
me  to  town  and  lay  the  matter  before  Parliament,  arising 
in  my  place  for  that  effect." 

Everard  was  little  moved  by  all  these  threats.  The 
only  formidable  one,  indeed,  was  that  of  Harrison,  whose 
enthusiasm,  joined  vviih  his  courage,  and  obstinacy,  and 
character  among  the  fanatics  of  his  own  principles,  made 
him  a  dangerous  enemy.  Before  trying  any  arguments 
with  the  refractory  ]\Jajor-General,  Everard  endeavoured 
to  moderate  his  feelings,  and  threw  something  in  about 
the  late  disturbances. 

"  Talk  not  to  me  of  supernatural  disturbances,  young 
man — talk  not  to  me  of  enemies  in  the  body  or  out  of  the 
body.  Am  I  not  the  champion  chosen  and  commission- 
ed to  encounter  and  to  conquer  the  great  Dragon,  and 
the  beast  which  cometh  out  of  the  sea  ?  Am  1  not  to  com- 
mand the  left  wing,  and  two  regiments  of  the  centre,  when 
the  Saints  shall  encounter  with  the  countless  legions  of 
Gog  and  IMagog  ?  I  tell  thee  that  my  name  is  written  on 
the  sea  of  glass  mingled  with  fire,  and  that  I  will  keep 
this  place  of  Woodstock  against  all  mortal  men,  and 
against  all  devils,  whether  in  field  or  chamber,  in  the 
forest  or  in  the  meadow,  even  till  the  Saints  reign  in  the 
fullness  of  their  glory." 

Everard  saw  it  was  then  time  to  produce  two  or  three 
lines  under  Cromwell's  hand,  which  he  had  received  from 
the  General,  subsequently  to  the  communication  through 
Wildrake.  The  information  they  contained  calculated  to 
allay  the  disappointment  of  the  Commissioners.  This 
document  assigned  as  the  reason  of  superseding  the 
Woodstock  Commission,  that  he  should  probably  propose 
to  the  Parliament  to  require  the  assistance  of  General 
Harrison,  Colonel  Desborouj^h,  and  Master  Bletson,  the 
honourable  member  for  Littlefaith,  in  a  much  greater 
matter,  namely,  the  disposing  of  the  royal  property,  and 
20     VOL.   I. 


230  WOODSTOCK. 

disparking  of  the  King's  forest  at  Windsor.  So  soon  as 
this  idea  was  started  all  parties  pricked  up  their  ears,  and 
their  drooping,  and  gloomy,  and  vindictive  looks  began  to 
give  place  to  courteous  smiles,  and  to  a  cheerfulness, 
which  laughed  in  their  eyes,  and  turned  their  moustaclies 
upwards. 

Colonel  Desborough  acquitted  his  right  honourable 
and  excellent  cousin  and  kinsman  of  all  species  of  un- 
kindness  ;  Master  Bletson  discovered,  that  the  interest  of 
the  state  was  trebly  concerned  in  the  good  administration 
of  Windsor,  more  than  in  that  of  Woodstock.  As  for 
Harrison,  he  exclaimed,  without  disguise  or  hesitation, 
that  the  gleaning  of  the  grapes  of  Windsor  was  better 
than  the  vintage  of  Woodstock.  Thus  speaking,  the 
glance  of  his  dark  eye  expressed  as  much  triumph  in 
the  proposed  earthly  advantage,  as  if  it  had  not  been  ac- 
cording to  his  vain  persuasion,  to  be  shortly  exchanged  for 
his  share  in  the  general  reign  of  the  Millenium.  His 
delight,  in  short,  resembled  the  joy  of  an  eagle,  who 
preys  upon  a  lamb  in  the  evening  with  not  the  less-relish, 
because  she  descries  a  hundred  thousand  men  about  to 
join  battle  with  day-break,  and  to  give  her  an  endless 
feast  on  the  hearts  and  life-blood  of  the  valiant. 

Yet  though  all  agreed  that  they  would  be  obedient  to 
the  General's  pleasure  in  this  matter,  Bletson  proposed, 
as  a  precautionary  measure,  in  which  all  agreed,  that 
they  should  take  up  their  abode  for  some  time  in  the  town 
of  Woodstock,  to  wait  for  their  new  commissions  re- 
specting Windsor  ;  and  this  upon  the  prudential  consid- 
eration, that  it  was  best  not  to  slip  one  knot  until  another 
was  first  tied. 

Each  commissioner,  therefore,  wrote  to  Oliver  indi- 
vidually, stating,  in  his  own  way,  the  depth  and  height, 
length  and  breadth,  of  his  attachment  to  him.  Each  ex- 
pressed himself  resolved  to  obey  the  General's  injunctions 
to  the  uttermost ;  but  with  the  same  scrupulous  devotion 
to  the  Parliament,  each  found  himself  at  a  loss  how  to 
lay  down  the  commission  intrusted  to  them  by  that  body, 
and  therefore  felt  bound  in  conscience  to  take  up  his  res- 


WOODSTOCK.  231 

idence  at  the  borough  of  Woodstock,  that  he  might  not 
seem  to  abandon  the  charge  committed  to  them,  until 
they  should  be  called  to  administrate  the  weightier  n^atter 
of  Windsor,  to  which  they  expressed  their  willingness 
instantly  to  devote  themselves,  according  to  his  Excel- 
lency's pleasure. 

This  was  the  general  style  of  their  letters,  varied  by 
the  characteristic  flourishes  of  the  writers.  Desborough, 
for  example,  said  something  about  die  religious  duty  of 
providing  for  one's  own  household,  only  he  blundered  the 
text.  Bletson  wrote  long  and  big  words  about  the  polit- 
ical obligation  incumbent  on  every  niember  of  ihe  com- 
munity, on  every  person,  to  sacrifice  his  time  and  talents 
to  the  service  of  his  country  ;  while  Harrison  talked  of 
the  littleness  of  present  affairs,  in  comparison  of  the  ap- 
proaching tremendous  change  of  all  ihings  beneath  the 
sun.  But  altl)ough  the  garnishing  of  the  various  epistles 
was  different,  the  result  came  to  the  same,  that  they 
were  determined  at  least  to  keep  sight  of  Woodstock 
until  they  were  well  assured  of  some  better  and  more 
profitable  conjmission. 

Everard  also  wrote  a  letter  in  the  most  grateful  terms  to 
Cromwell,  which  would  probably  have  been  less  warm 
had  he  known  more  distinctly  than  his  follower  chose  to 
tell  him,  the  expectation  under  which  the  wily  General 
had  granted  his  request.  He  acquainted  his  Excellency 
with  his  purpose  of  continuing  at  Woodstock,  partly  to 
assure  himself  of  the  motions  of  the  three  Commission- 
ers, and  to  watch  whether  they  did  not  again  enter'upoii 
execution  of  the  trust,  which  they  had  for  the  present 
renounced, — and  partly  to  see  that  some  extraordinary 
circumstances,  which  had  taken  place  in  the  Lodge,  and 
which  would  doubtless  transpire,  were  not  followed  by  any 
explosion  to  the  disturbance  of  the  public  peace.  He 
knew  (as  he  expressed  himself)  that  his  Excellency  was 
so  much  the  friend  of  order,  that  he  would  rather  dis- 
turbances or  insurrections  were  prevented  than  punished  ; 
and  he  conjured  the  General  to  repose  confidence  in  his 
exertions  for  the  public  service  by  every  mode  within  his 
1^ 


232  WOODSTOCK. 

power  ;  not  aware^  it  will  be  observed,  in  what  sense  his 
general  pledge  might  be  interpreted. 

These  letters  being  made  up  into  a  packet,  were  for- 
warded to  Windsor  by  a  trooper,  detached  on  that  errand. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

We  do  that  in  our  zeal, 

Our  calmer  moments  are  afraid  to  answer. 

Anomjmous. 

While  the  Commissioners  were  preparing  to  remove 
themselves  from  the  Lodge  to  the  inn  at  the  borough  of 
Woodstock,  with  all  that  state  and  bustle  which  attend 
the  movements  of  great  persons,  and  especially  of  such 
to  whoQi  greatness  is  not  entirely  familiar,  Everard  held 
some  colloquy  with  the  Presbyterian  clergyman.  Master 
Holdenough,  who  had  issued  from  the  apartment  which 
he  had  occupied,  as  it  were  in  defiance  of  the  spirits  by 
whom  the  mansion  was  supposed  to  be  disturbed,  and 
w^hose  pale  cheek,  and  pensive  brow,  gave  token  that  he 
had  not  passed  the  night  more  comfortably  than  the  other 
inmates  of  the  Lodge  of  Woodstock.  Colonel  Everard 
having  offered  to  procure  the  reverend  gentleman  some 
refreshment,  received  this  reply  : — "This  day  shall  I  not 
taste  food,  saving  that  which  we  are  assured  of  as  suffi- 
cient for  our  sustenance,  where  it  is  promised  that  our 
bread  shall  be  given  us  and  our  water  shall  be  sure.  Not 
that  1  fast,  in  the  papistical  opinion  that  it  adds  to  those 
merits,  which  are  but  an  accumulation  of  filthy  rags  ; 
but  because  I  hold  it  needful  that  no  grosser  sustenance 
should  this  day  cloud  my  understanding,  or  render  less 
pure  and  vivid  the  thanks  I  owe  to  Heaven  for  a  most 
^vonderful  preservation." 


"WOODSTOCK.  2oS 

"  ^Master  Holdenough,"  said  Everard,  "  you  are,  I 
know,  both  a  good  man  and  a  bold  one,  and  1  saw  you 
last  night  courageously  go  upon  your  sacred  duty,  when 
soldiers,  and  tried  ones,  seemed  considerably  alarmed." 

*' Too  courageous — too  venturous,"  was  INlaster  Hold- 
enough's  reply,  the  boldness  of  whose  aspect  seemed 
completely  to  have  died  away.  "  We  are  frail  crea- 
tures. Master  Everard,  and  frailest  then  when  we  think 
ourselves  strongest.  Oh,  Colonel  Everard,"  he  added, 
after  a  pause,  and  as  if  the  confidence  was  partly  involun- 
tary,  *'  1  have  seen  that  which  I  shall  never  survive 


»" 


'/ ' 


"  You  surprise  me,  reverend  sir,"  said  Everard  ;< — 
"  may  I  request  you  will  speak  more  plainly  ?  I  have 
heard  some  stories  of  this  wild  night,  nay,  have  witness- 
ed strange  things  myself  ;  but,  methinks,  1  would  be 
much  interested  in  knowing  the  nature  of  your  disturb^ 
ance." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  clergyman,  "  you  are  a  discreet  gen- 
tleman ;  and  though  I  would  not  willingly  that  these  her- 
etics, schismatics,  Brownists,  ?>Iuggletonians,  Anabaptists, 
and  so  forth,  had  such  an  opportunity  of  triumph,  as  my 
defeat  in  this  matter  would  have  afforded  them,  yet  with 
you,  who  have  been  ever  a  faithful  follower  of  our  church, 
and  are  pledged  to  the  good  cause  by  the  great  National 
League  and  Covenant,  surely  I  would  be  more  open. 
Sit  we  down,  therefore,  and  let  me  call  for  a  glass  of 
pure  water,  for  as  yet  1  feel  some  bodily  faltering  ; 
though,  I  thank  Heaven,  I  am  in  mind  resolute  and  com- 
posed as  a  merely  mortal  man  may  after  such  a  vision. 
— They  say,  worthy  Colonel,  that  looking  on  such  things 
foretells,  or  causes,  speedy  death — I  know  not  if  it  be 
true  ;  but  if  so,  I  only  depart  like  the  tired  sentinel  when 
his  officer  releases  him  from  his  post  ;  ar.d  glad  shall  I 
be  to  close  these  wearied  eyes  against  the  sight,  and  shut 
these  harassed  ears  against  the  croaking,  as  of  frogs,  of 
Antinomians,  and  Pelacrians,  and  Socininns,  and  Aimin- 
ians,  and  Arians,  and  Nullifidians,  which  have  come  up 
20-     VOL    I. 


234  AVOOD  STOCK. 

into  our  England,  like  those  filthy  reptiles  into  the  house 
of  Pharaoh." 

Here  one  of  the  servants  who  had  been  summoned, 
entered  with  a  cup  of  water,  gazing  at  the  same  time  in 
the  face  of  the  clergyman,  as  if  his  stupid  grey  eyes  were 
endeavouring  to  read  what  tragic  tale  was  written  on  his 
brow  ;  and  shaking  his  empty  scull  as  he  left  the  room, 
with  the  air  of  one  who  was  proud  of  having  discovered 
that  all  was  not  exactly  right,  though  he  could  not  so  well 
guess  what  it  was  that  was  w^rong. 

Colonel  Everard  invited  the  good  man  to  take  some 
refreshment  more  genial  than  the  pure  element,  but  he 
declined  :  "  I  am  in  some  sort  a  champion,"  he  said  ; 
"  and  though  I  have  been  foiled  in  the  late  controversy 
with  the  Enemy,  still  I  have  my  trumpet  to  give  the 
alarm,  and  my  sharp  sword  to  smite  withal  ;  therefore, 
like  the  Nazarites  of  old,  I  will  eat  nothing  that  cometh 
of  the  vine,  neither  drink  wine  nor  strong  drink,  until 
these  my  days  of  combat  shall  have  passed  away." 

Kindly  and  respectfully  the  Colonel  anew  pressed 
Master  Holdenough  to  communicate  the  events  that  had 
befallen  him  on  the  preceding  night ;  and  the  good  cler- 
gyman proceeded  as  follows,  with  that  little  characteris- 
tical  touch  of  vanity  in  his  narrative,  which  naturally  arose 
out  of  the  part  he  had  played  in  the  world,  and  the  influ- 
ence which  he  had  exercised  over  the  minds  of  others. 
"I  was  a  young  man  at  the  University  of  Cambridge,"  he 
said,  "  when  I  was  particularly  bound  in  friendship  to 
a  fellow-student,  perhaps  because  we  w^ere  esteemed 
(though  it  is  vain  to  mention  it)  the  most  hopeful  scholars 
at  our  college  ;  and  so  equally  advanced,  that  it  was  dif- 
ficult, perhaps,  to  say  which  was  the  greater  proficient  in 
his  studies.  Only  our  tutor,  Master  Purefoy,  used  to 
say,  that  if  my  comrade  had  the  advantage  of  me  in 
gifts,  1  had  the  better  of  him  in  grace  ;  for  he  was  attach- 
ed to  the  profane  learning  of  the  classics,  always  unpro- 
fitable, often  impious  and  impure  ;  and  I  had  light  enough 
to  turn  my  studies  unto  the  sacred  tongues.  Also  we 
differed  in  our  opinions  touching  the  Church  of  pngland. 


\ 


WOODSTOCK.  235 

for  he  held  Arminian  opinions,  with  Laud,  and  those 
who  would  connect  our  ecclesiastical  establishment  with 
the  civil,  and  make  the  Church  dependent  on  the  breath 
of  an  earthly  man.  In  fine,  he  favoured  Prelacy  both 
in  essentials  and  ceremonials  ;  and  although  we  parted 
whh  tears  and  embraces,  it  was  to  follow  very  different 
courses.  He  obtained  a  living,  and  became  a  great  con- 
troversial writer  in  behalf  of  the  Bishops  and  of  the 
Court.  I  also,  as  is  well  known  to  you,  to  the  best  of 
my  poor  abilities,  sharpened  my  pen  in  the  cause  of  the 
poor  oppressed  people,  whose  tender  consciences  reject- 
ed the  rites  and  ceremonies  more  befitting  a  papistical 
than  a  reformed  Church,  and  which,  according  to  the 
blinded  pohcy  of  the  Court,  were  enforced  by  pains  and 
penalties.  Then  came  the  Civil  War,  and  I — called 
thereunto  by  my  conscience,  and  nothing  fearing  or  sus- 
pecting what  miserable  consequences  have  chanced, 
through  the  rise  of  these  Independents — consented  to 
lend  my  countenance  and  labour  to  the  great  work,  by 
becoming  chaplain  to  Colonel  Harrison's  regiment.  Not 
that  I  mingled  with  carnal  weapons  in  the  field — which 
Heaven  defend  that  a  minister  of  the  altar  should — but  I 
preached,  exhorted,  and,  in  time  of  need,  was  a  surgeon, 
as  well  to  the  wounds  of  the  body  as  of  the  soul.  Now, 
it  fell  towards  the  end  of  the  war,  that  a  party  of  malig- 
nants  had  seized  on  a  strong  house  in  the  shire  of  Shrews- 
bury, situated  on  a  small  island,  advanced  into  a  lake, 
and  accessible  only  by  a  small  and  narrow  causeway. 
From  thence  they  made  excursions,  and  vexed  the  coun- 
try ;  and  high  time  it  was  to  suppress  them,  so  that  a 
part  of  our  regiment  went  to  reduce  them  ;  and  I  was 
requested  to  go,  for  they  were  few  in  number  to  take  in 
so  strong  a  place,  and  the  Colonel  judged  that  ray  exhor- 
tations would  make  them  do  valiantly.  And  so,  con- 
trary to  my  wont,  I  went  forth  with  them,  even  to  the 
field,  where  there  w^as  valiant  fighting  on  both  sides. 
Nevertheless  the  malignants  shooting  their  wall-pieces  at 
us,  had  so  much  the  advantage,  that,  after  bursting  their 
gates  with  a  salvo  of  our  cannon,  Colonel  Harrison  order- 


236  WOODSTOCK. 

ed  his  men  to  advance  on  the  causeway,  and  try  to  carry 
the  place  by  storm.  Natheless,  ahhough  our  men  did 
vahantly,  advancing  in  good  order,  yet  being  galled  on 
every  side  by  the  fire,  they  at  length  fell  into  disorder, 
and  were  retreating  with  much  loss,  Harrison  himself 
valiantly  bringing  up  the  rear,  and  defending  them  as  he 
could  against  the  enemy,  who  sallied  forth  in  pursuit  of 
them,  to  smite  them  hip  and  thigh.  Now,  Colonel  Eve- 
rard,  I  am  a  man  of  quick  and  vehement  temper  by 
nature,  though  better  teaching  than  the  old  law  hath  made 
me  mild  and  patient  as  you  now  see  me.  I  could  not 
bear  to  see  our  Israelites  flying  before  the  Philistines, 
so  1  rushed  upon  the  causeway,  with  the  Bible  in  one  hand 
and  a  halberd,  which  1  had  caught  up,  in  the  other,  and 
turned  back  the  foremost  fugitives,  by  threatening  to 
strike  them  down,  pointing  out  to  them  at  the  same  time 
a  priest  in  his  cassock,  as  they  call  it,  who  was  among 
the  malignants,  and  asking  them  whether  the}^  would  not 
do  as  much  for  a  true  servant  of  Heaven,  as  the  uncir- 
cumcised  would  for  a  priest  of  Baal.  My  v/ords  and 
strokes  prevailed  ;  they  turned  at  once,  and  shouting  out, 
Down  with  Baal  and  his  worshippers  !  they  charged  the 
malignants  so  unexpectedly  home,  that  they  not  only 
drove  them  back  into  their  house  of  garrison,  but  enter- 
ed it  with  them,  as  the  phrase  is,  pell  mell.  J  also  was 
there,  partly  hurried  on  by  the  crou'd,  partly  to  prevail 
on  our  enraged  soldiers  to  give  quarter  ;  for  it  grieved 
my  heart  to  see  Christians  and  Englishmen  haslied  down 
with  swords  and  gunstocks,  like  curs  in  the  street,  when 
there  is  an  alarm  of  mad-dogs.  In  this  way,  the  soldiers 
fighting  and  slaughtering,  and  I  calling  upon  them  to 
stay  their  hand,  we  gained  the  very  roof  of  the  building, 
which  was  in  part  leaded,  and  which,  as  to  a  last  tower 
of  refuge,  those  of  the  cavaliers,  who  yet  escaped,  had 
retired.  I  was  myself,  I  may  say,  forced  up  the  narrow 
winding  stair-case,  by  our  soldiers,  wha  rushed  on  like 
dogs  of  chase  upon  their  prey  ;  and  when  extricated 
from  the  passage,  I  found  myself  in  the  midst  of  a  horrid 
scene.       The  scattered   defenders  were,  some  resisting 


WOODSTOCK.  237 

with  the  fury  of  despair  ;  some  on  their  knees,  imploring 
for  compassion  in  words  and  tones  to  break  a  man's  heart 
when  he  tliinks  on  them  ;  some  were  caJHng  on  God  for 
mercy  ;  and  it  was  time,  for  man  had  none.  They  were 
stricken  down,  thrust  through,  flung  from  the  battlements 
into  the  lake  ;  and  the  wild  cries  of  the  victors,  mingled 
with  the  groans,  shrieks,  and  clamours  of  the  vanquished, 
made  a  sound  so  horrible,  that  only  death  can  erase  it 
from  my  memory.  And  the  men  who  butchered  their 
fellow-creatures  thus,  were  neither  Pagans  Irom  distant 
savage  lands,  nor  ruffians,  the  refuse  and  ofF-scouiings  of 
our  own  people.  They  were  in  calm  blood  reasonable, 
nay,  religious  men,  maintaining  a  fair  repute  both  heav- 
enward and  earthward.  Oh,  Piaster  Everard,  your  trade 
of  war  should  be  feared  and  avoided,  since  it  converts 
such  men  into  wolves  towards  their  fellow-creatures  !" 

"  It  is  a  stern  necessity,''  said  Everard,  looking  down, 
"  and  as  such  alone  is  justifiable — But  proceed,  reverend 
sir  ;  I  see  not  how  this  storm,  an  incident  but  e'en  too 
frequent  on  both  sides  during  the  late  war,  connects  with 
the  aflair  of  last  night." 

"  You  shall  hear  anon,"  said  jMr.  Holdenough  ;  then 
paused  as  one  who  makes  an  effort  to  comjjose  himself 
before  continuing  a  relation,  the  tenor  of  which  agitatexl 
him  with  much  violence.  "  In  this  infernal  tumult,"  he 
resumed — "  for  surely  nothing  on  earth  could  so  much 
resemble  hell,  as  when  men  go  thus  loose  in  mortal  malice 
on  their  fellow-creatures, — I  saw  the  same  priest  whom 
I  had  distinguished  on  the  causeway,  with  one  or  two 
other  malignants,  pressed  into  a  corner  by  the  assailants, 
and  defending  themselves  to  the  last,  as  those  who  had 
no  hope. — I  saw  him — I  knew^  him — Oh,  Colonel  Eve- 
rard !" 

He  grasped  Everard's  hand  with  his  own  left  hand, 
and  pressed  the  palm  of  his  right  to  his  face  and  forehead, 
sobbing  aloud. 

"  It  was  your  college  companion  f"  said  Everard, 
anticipating  the  catastrophe. 


238  WOODSTOCK. 

"  Mine  ancient — mine  only  friend — with  whom  I  had 
spent  the  happy  days  of  youth  ! — I  rushed  forward — I 
struggled — I  entreated.  But  my  eagerness  left  me  neither 
voice  nor  language — all  was  drowned  in  the  wretched  cry 
w^hich  1  had  myself  raised — Down  with  the  priest  of  Baal 
— Slay  Mattan — slay  him  were  he  between  the  altars  ! — 
Forced  over  the  battlements,  but  struggling  for  life,  I 
could  see  him  cling  to  one  of  those  projections  which  are 
formed  to  carry  the  water  from  the  leads — but  they 
hacked  at  his  arms  and  hands. — I  heard  the  heavy  fall 
into  the  bottomless  abyss  below. — Excuse  me — I  cannot 
go  on." 

"  He  may  have  escaped." 

"  Oh  !  no,  no,  no — the  tower  was  four  stories  in  height. 
Even  those  who  threw  themselves  into  the  lake,  from  the 
lower  windows,  to  escape  by  swimming,  had  no  safety  ; 
for  mounted  troopers  on  the  shore  caught  the  same  blood- 
thirsty humour  which  had  seized  the  storming  party,  gal- 
loped around  the  margin  of  the  lake,  and  shot  those  who 
were  struggling  for  life  in  the  water,  or  cut  them  down 
as  they  strove  to  get  to  land.  They  were  all  cut  off  and 
destroyed. — Oh  !  may  the  blnod  shed  on  that  day  remain 
silent  ! — Oh  !  that  the  earth .  may  receive  it  in  her  re- 
cesses ! — Oh  !  that  it  may  be  mingled  for  ever  with  the 
dark  waters  of  that  lake,  so  that  it  may  never  cry  for 
vengeance  against  those  whose  anger  was  fierce,  and 
who  slaughtered  in  their  wrath  ! — And,  oh  !  may  the 
erring  man  be  forgiven  who  came  into  their  assembly, 
and  lent  his  voice  to  encourage  their  cruelty. — Oh  !  Al- 
bany, my  brother,  my  brother — I  have  lamented  for  thee 
even  as  David  for  Jonathan  !" 

The  good  man  sobbed  aloud,  and  so  much  did  Colonel 
Everard  sympathize  with  his  emotions,  that  he  forebore 
to  press  him  upon  the  subject  of  his  own  curiosity  until 
the  full  tide  of  remorseful  passion  had  for  the  time  abated, 
It  was,  however,  fierce  and  agitating,  the  more  so,  per^ 
haps,  that  indulgence  in  strong  mental  feeling  of  any  kind 
was  foreign  to  the  severe  and  ascetic  character  of  the 
man,  and  was  therefore  the  more  overpowering  when  it 


WOODSTOCK. 


239 


had  at  once  surmounted  all  restraints.  Large  tears 
flowed  down  the  trembling  features  of  his  thin,  and  usually 
stern,  or  at  least  austere  countenance  ;  he  eagerly  re- 
turned the  compression  of  Everard's  hand,  as  if  thankful 
for  the  sympathy  which  the  caress  implied. 

Presently  after.  Master  Holdenough  wiped  his  eyes, 
withdrew  his  hand  gently  from  that  of  Everard's,  shaking 
it  kindly  as  they  parted,  and  proceeded  with  more  com- 
posure :  "  Forgive  me  this  burst  of  passionate  feeling 
worthy  Colonel. — I  am  conscious  it  little  becomes  a  man 
of  my  cloth,  who  should  be  the  bearer  of  consolation  to 
others,  to  give  way  in  mine  own  person,  to  an  extremity 
of  grief,  weak  at  least,  if  indeed  it  is  sinful  ;  for  what 
are  we,  that  we  should  weep  and  murmur  touching  that 
which  is  permitted  ?  But  Albany  was  to  me  as  a  brother. 
The  happiest  days  of  my  life,  ere  my  Call  to  mingle  my- 
self in  the  strife  of  the  land  had  awakened  me  to  my 
duties,  were  spent  in  his  company. — 1 — but  1  will  make 
the  rest  of  my  story  short." — Here  he  drew  his  chair 
close  to  that  of  Everard,  and  spoke  in  a  solemn  and  mys- 
terious tone  of  voice  almost  lowered  to  a  whisper — "  I 
saw  him  last  night." 

"  Saw  him — saw  whom  .^"  said  Everard.  *'  Can  you 
n;eaii  the  person  whom " 

"  Whom  I  saw  so  ruthlessly  slaughtered,"  said  the 
clergyman. — "  My  ancient  college-friend — Joseph  Al- 
bany." 

"  Master  Holdenough,  your  cloth  and  your  character 
alike  must  prevent  your  jesting  on  such  a  subject  as  this." 

*'  Jesting  I"  answered  Holdenough  ;  "  1  would  as 
soon  jest  on  my  death-bed — as  soon  jest  upon  the  Bible." 

"  But  you  must  have  been  deceived,"  answered  Eve- 
rard, hastily  ;  "  this  tragical  story  necessarily  often  re- 
turns to  your  mind,  and  in  moments  when  the  imagination 
overcomes  the  evidence  of  the  outward  senses,  your  fan- 
cy must  have  presented  to  you  an  unreal  appearance. 
Nothing  more  likely,  when  the  mind  is  on  the  stretch  after 
something  supernatural,  than  that  the  imagination  should 


240  WOODSTOCK. 

supply  the  place  with  a  chimera,  while  the  over- excited 
feelings  render  it  difficult  to  dispel  the  delusion." 

"  Colonel  Ev^erard,"  replied  Holdenough,  with  auster- 
ity, "  in  discharge  of  my  duty  I  must  not  fear  the  face 
of  man  ;  and,  therefore,  I  tell  you  plainly,  as  I  have  done 
before  with  more  observance,  that  when  you  bring  your 
carnal  learning  and  judgment,  as  it  is  too  much  your 
nature  to  do,  to  investigate  the  hidden  things  of  another 
world  you  might  as  well  measure  with  the  palm  of  your 
hand  the  waters  of  the  Jsis.  Indeed,  good  sir,  you  err 
in  this,  and  give  men  too  much  pretence  to  confound  your 
honourable  name  with  witch-advocates,  free-thinkers,  and 
atheists,  even  with  such  as  this  man  Bletson,  who,  if  the 
discipline  of  the  church  had  its  hands  strengthened,  as  it 
was  in  the  beginning  of  the  great  conflict,  would  have 
been  long  ere  now  cast  out  of  the  pale,  and  delivered 
over  to  the  punishment  of  the  flesh,  that  his  spirit  might 
if  possible,  be  yet  saved." 

"  You  mistake,  JMaster  Holdenough,"  said  Colonel 
Everard  ;  "  1  do  not  deny  the  existence  of  such  preter- 
natural visitations,  because  I  cannot,  and  dare  not,  raise 
the  voice  of  my  own  opinion  against  the  testimony  of 
ages,  supported  by  such  learned  men  as  yourself.  Nev- 
ertheless, though  1  grant  the  possibility  of  such  things,  I 
have  scarce  yet  heard  of  an  instance  in  my  days  so  well 
fortified  by  evidence,  that  I  could  at  once  and  distinctly 
say,  this  must  have  happened  by  supernatural  agency, 
and  not  otherwise." 

"  Hear,  then,  what  I  have  to  tell,"  said  the  divine, 
"  on  the  faith  of  a  man,  a  Christian,  and  what  is  more, 
a  servant  of  our  Holy  Church  ;  and  therefore,  though 
unworthy,  an  elder  and  a  teacher  among  Christians. — J 
had  taken  my  post  yester  evening  in  the  half-furnished 
apartment,  wherein  hangs  a  hus^e  mirror,  which  might 
have  served  Goliah  of  Gath  to  have  admired  himself  in, 
when  clothed  from  head  to  foot  in  his  brazen  armour. 
1  the  rather  chose  this  place,  because  they  informed  me 
it  was  the  nearest  habitable  room  to  the  gallery,  in  which 


"WOODSTOCK.  241 

they  say  you  had  been  yourself  assailed  that  evening  by 
the  Evil  One. — Was  it  so,  1  pray  you  ?" 

"  By  some  one  with  no  good  intentions  I  was  assailed 
in  that  apartment.  So  far,"  said  Colonel  Everard, 
"  you  were  correctly  informed." 

"  Well,  I  chose  my  post  as  well  as  I  might,  even  as  a 
resolved  general  approaches  his  camp,  and  casts  up  his 
mound  as  nearly  as  he  can  to  the  besieged  city.  And, 
of  a  truth.  Colonel  Everard,  if  I  feU  some  sensation  of 
bodily  fear, — for  even  Elias,  and  the  prophets  who  com- 
manded the  elements,  had  a  portion  in  our  frail  nature, 
much  more  such  a  poor  sinful  being  as  myself — yet  was 
my  hope  and  my  courage  high  ;  and  1  thought  ot  the 
texts  which  I  might  use,  not  in  the  wicked  sense  cf  peri- 
apts, or  spells,  as  the  blinded  Papists  employ  ihem,  to- 
gether with  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  other  fruitless  forms, 
but  as  nourishing  and  supporting  that  true  trust  and  con- 
fidence in  the  blessed  promises,  being  the  true  shield  of 
faith  wherewith  the  fiery  darts  of  Satan  may  be  wiihsiood 
and  quenched.  And  thus  aimed  and  prepared,  1  sat  me 
down  to  read,  at  the  same  time  to  write,  that  1  might 
compel  my  mind  to  attend  to  those  subjects  which  be- 
came the  situation  in  which  I  was  placed,  as  preventing 
any  unlicensed  excursions  of  the  fancy,  and  leaving  no 
room  for  my  imagination  to  brood  over  idle  fears.  So 
I  methodized,  and  wrote  down  what  I  thought  meet  for 
the  time,  and  peradventure  some  hungry  souls  may  yet 
profit  by  the  food  which  1  then  prepared." 

"  It  was  wisely  and  worthily  done,  good  and  reverend 
sir,"  replied  Colonel  Everard  :  "  1  pray  you  to  proceed." 

"  While  1  was  thus  employed,  sir,  and  had  been  upon 
the  matter,  for  about  three  hours,  not  yielding  to  weari- 
ness, a  strange  thrilling  came  over  my  senses, — and  the 
large  and  old-fashioned  apartment  seemed  to  wax  larger, 
more  gloomy,  and  more  cavernous,  while  the  air  of  the 
night  grew  more  cold  and  chill  ;  1  know  not  if  it  was 
that  the  fire  began  to  decay,  or  whether  there  cometh 
before  such  things  as  were  then  about  to  happen,  a  breath 

21        VOL.     I. 


242  WOODSTOCK. 

and  atmosphere,  as  it  were,  of  terror,  as  Job  saith,  in  a 
well-known  passage,  '  Fear  came  upon  me,  and  trem- 
bling, wliicli  made  my  bones  to  shake;'  and  there  was  a 
tingling  noise  in  my  ears,  and  a  dizziness  in  my  brain,  so 
that  1  felt  like  those  who  call  for  aid  when  there  is  no 
danger,  and  was  even  prompted  to  flee,  when  I  saw  no 
one  to  pursue.  It  was  then  that  something  seemed  to 
pass  behind  me,  casting  a  reflection  on  the  great  mirror 
before  which  I  had  placed  my  writing-table,  and  which 
I  saw  by  assistance  of  the  great  standing  light  which  was 
then  in  front  of  the  glass.  And  1  looked  up,  and  I  saw 
in  the  glass  distinctly  the  appearance  of  a  man — as  sure 
as  these  words  issue  from  my  mouth,  it  was  no  other  than 
liie  same  Josej)h  Albany — the  companion  of  my  youth — 
he  whom  1  had  seen  precipitated  down  the  battlements 
of  Clidesthrough  Caslle  inio  the  deep  lake  below." 

"  What  did  you  do  f" 

"  It  suddenly  rushed  on  my  mind,"  said  the  divine, 
*'  that  the  stoical  philosopher  Athenodorus  had  eluded 
the  horrors  of  such  a  vision  by  patiently  pursuing  his 
studies  ;  and  it  shot  at  the  same  time  across  my  mind, 
that  1,  a  Christian  divine,  and  a  Steward  of  the  ]V]ysteries, 
had  less  reason  to  fear  evil,  and  better  matter  on  which 
to  employ  my  thoughts,  than  was  possessed  by  a  Heathen, 
who  was  blinded  even  by  his  own  wisdom.  So,  instead 
of  betraying  any  alarm,  or  even  turning  my  head  around, 
I  pursued  my  writing,  but  with  a  beating  heart,  I  admit, 
and  with  a  throbbing  hand." 

"  If  you  could  write  at  all,"  said  the  Colonel,  *'  with 
such  an  impression  on  your  mind,  you  may  take  the  head 
of  the  English  army  for  dauntless  resolution." 

"  Our  courage  is  not  our  own,  Colonel,"  said  the 
divine,  *'  and  not  as  ours  should  it  be  vaunted  of.  And 
again,  when  you  speak  of  this  strange  vision  as  an  im- 
pression on  my  fancy,  and  not  a  reality  obvious  to  my 
senses,  let  me  tell  you  once  more,  your  worldly  wisdom 
is  but  foolishness  touching  the  things  that  are  not  worldly." 

"  Did  you  not  look  again  upon  the  mirror  .f^"  said  the 
Colonel. 


WOODSTOCK. 


243 


"  I  did,  when  1  had  copied  out  the  comfortahle  text, 
*Thou  shah  tread  down  Satan  under  ihy  feet.'  " 

"  And  what  did  you  then  see  r" 

"  The  reflection  of  the  same  JosejDh  Albany,"  said 
Holdenough,  "  passing  slowly  as  from  behind  my  chair, 
the  same  in  member  and  lineament  that  I  had  known 
him  in  his  youth,  excepting  that  his  cheek  had  the  marks 
of  the  more  advanced  age  at  which  he  died,  and  was 
very  pale." 

•'  What  did  you  then  .'" 

"  I  turned  from  the  glass,  and  plainly  saw  the  figure 
which  made  tlie  reflection  in  the  mirror  retreating  to- 
wards the  door,  not  fast,  nor  slow,  but  with  a  gliding 
steady  pace.  It  turned  again  when  near  the  door,  and 
again  showed  me  its  pale,  ghastly  countenance,  before 
it  disappeared.  But  how  it  left  the  room,  whether  by 
the  door,  or  otherw  ise,  my  spirits  were  too  much  hurried 
to  remark  exactly  ;  nor  have  1  been  able  by  any  effort 
of  recollection,  distinctly  to  remember." 

"  This  is  a  strange,  and,  as  coming  from  you,  a  most 
excellently  well-attested  apparition,"  answered  Everard. 
*'  And  yet,  iMaster  Holdenough,  if  the  other  world  has 
been  actually  displayed,  as  you  apprehend,  and  I  will  not 
dispute  the  possibility,  assure  yourself,  there  are  also 
wicked  men  concerned  in  these  machinations.  I  myself 
have  undergone  some  rencontres  with  visitants  who  pos- 
sessed bodily  strength,  and  wore,  I  am  sure,  earthly 
weapons." 

"  Oh  !  doubtless,  doubtless,"  replied  ]\Iaster  Hold- 
enough  ;  "  Beelzebub  loves  to  charge  with  horse  and 
foot  mingled,  as  was  the  fashion  of  the  old  Scotch  Gen- 
eral, David  Leslie.  He  has  his  devils  in  the  body  as 
well  as  his  devils  disembodied,  and  uses  the  one  to  sup- 
port and  back  the  other." 

"  It  may  be  as  you  say,  reverend  sir,"  answered  the 
Colonel. — "But  what  do  you  advise  in  this  case?" 

"  For  that  I  must  consult  with  my  brethren,"  said  the 
divine  ;  "  and  if  there  be  but  left  in  our  borders  five 
ministers  of  the  true   kirk,  we  will  charge  Satan  in  full 


244  WOODSTOCK. 

body,  and  you  shall  see  whether  we  have  not  power  over 
him  to  resist  till  he  shall  flee  from  us.  But  tailing  that 
ghostly  armament  against  these  strange  and  unearthly 
enemies,  truly  I  recommend,  that  as  a  house  of  witchcraft 
and  abomination,  this  polluted  den  of  ancient  tyranny  and 
prostitution  should  be  totally  consumed  by  fire,  lest  Satan, 
establishing  his  head-quarters  so  much  to  his  mind,  should 
find  a  garrison  and  a  fastness  from  which  he  might  sally 
forth  to  infest  the  whole  neighbourhood.  Certain  it  is, 
that  I  would  recommend  to  no  Christian  soul  to  inhabit 
the  mansion  ;  and,  if  deserted,  it  would  become  a  place 
for  wizards  to  play  their  pranks,  and  witches  to  establish 
their  Sabbath,  and  those  who,  like  Demas,  go  about  after 
the  wealth  of  this  world,  seeking  for  gold  and  silver  to 
practise  spells  and  charms  to  the  prejudice  of  the  souls 
of  the  covetous.  Trust  me,  therefore,  it  were  better  that 
it  were  spoiled  and  broken  down,  not  leaving  one  stone 
upon  another." 

"  I  say  nay  to  that,  my  good  friend,"  said  the  Colonel ; 
"  for  the  Lord-General  hath  permitted,  by  his  license, 
my  mother's  brother,  Sir  Henry  Lee,  and  his  family,  to 
return  into  the  house  of  his  fathers,  being  indeed  the 
only  roof  under  which  he  hath  any  chance  of  obtaining 
sheher  for  his  grey  hairs." 

"  And  was  this  done  by  your  advice,  Markham  Eve- 
rard  ?"  said  the  divine,  austerely. 

"  Certainly  it  was,"  returned  the  Colonel. — "  And 
wherefore  should  I  not  exert  mine  influence  to  obtain  a 
place  of  refuge  for  the  brother  of  my  mother  .^" 

''  Now,  as  sure  as  thy  soul  livelh,"  answered  the  pres- 
byter, '•  I  had  believed  this  from  no  tongue  but  thine  own. 
Tell  me,  was  it  not  this  very  Sir  Henry  Lee,  who,  by  the 
force  of  his  bufF-coats  and  green-jerkins,  enforced  the 
Papist  Laic's  order  to  remove  the  altar  to  the  eastern  end 
of  the  church  at  Woodstock  ? — and  did  not  he  swear  by 
his  beard,  that  he  woiild  hang  in  the  very  street  of  Wood- 
stock whoever  should  deny  to  drink  the  King's  health  ? 
— and  is  not  his  hand  red  with  the  blood  of  the  saints  .'* 


WOODSTOCK.  245 

— and  hath  there  been  a  ruffler  in  the  field  for  prelacy 
and  high  preroj^ative  more  unmitigable  or  fiercer  ?*' 

"  All  this  may  have  been  as  you  say,  good  Master 
Holdenough,"  answered  the  Colonel  ;  "  bnt  my  uncle  is 
now  old  and  feeble,  and  hath  scarce  a  single  follower 
remaining,  and  his  daughter  is  a  being  whom  to  look  upon 
would  make  the  sternest  weep  for  pity  ;  a  being  who — " 

"  Who  is  dearer  to  Everard,"  said  Holdenough, 
**  than  bis  good  name,  his  faith  to  his  friends,  his  duty 
to  his^  religion  ; — this  is  no  time  to  speak  with  sugared 
lips.  The  paths  in  which  you  tread  are  dangerous. 
You  are  striving  to  raise  the  papistical  candlestick,  which 
Heaven  in  its  justice  removed  out  of  its  place — to  bring 
back  lo  this  hall  of  sorceries  those  very  sinners  who  are 
bewitched  with  them.  I  will  not  permit  the  land  to  be 
abused  by  their  witchcrafts. — They  shall  not  come 
hither." 

He  spoke  this  with  vehemence,  and  striking  his  stick 
against  the  ground  ;  and  the  Colonel,  very  much  dissat- 
isfied, began  to  express  himself  haughtily  in  return. 
*'  You  had  better  consider  your  power  to  accomplish  your 
threats,  Master  Holdenough,"  he  said,  "  before  you  urge 
them  so  peremptorily." 

"  And  have  I  not  the  power  to  bind  and  to  loose  ?*' 
said  the  clergyman. 

"  It  is  a  power  little  available,  save  over  those  of  your 
own  church,"  said  Everard,  with  a  tone  something  con- 
temptuous. 

"  Take  heed — take  heed,"  said  the  divine,  who,  though 
an  excellent,  was,  as  w^e  have  elsewhere  seen,  an  irritable 
man. — "  Do  not  insult  me  ;  but  think  honourably  of  the 
messenger,  for  the  sake  of  Him  whose  commission  he 
carries. — Do  not,  I  say,  defy  me — 1  am  bound  to  dis- 
charge my  duty,  were  it  lo  the  displeasing  of  my  twin 
brother." 

"  I  can  see  nought  your  cffce  has  to  do  in  the  matter," 
said  Colonel  Everard  ;    "  and  I,  on  my   side,  give  you 

21*       VOL.    I. 


246  WOODSTOCK. 

warning  not  to  attempt  to  meddle  beyond  your  commis- 
sion." 

"Right — you  hold  me  already  to  be  as' submissive  as 
one  of  your  grenadiers,"  replied  the  clergyman,  his  acute 
features  trembling  with  a  sense  of  indignity,  so  as  even  to 
agitate  his  grey  hair  ;  "  but  beware,  sir,  I  am  not  so  pow- 
erless as  you  suppose.  I  will  invoke  every  true  Christian 
in  Woodstock  to  gird  up  his  loins,  and  resist  the  restora- 
tion of  prelacy,  oppression,  and  malignancy  within  our 
borders.  I  will  stir  up  the  wrath  of  the  righteous 
against  the  oppressor — the  Ishmaehte — the  Edomite — 
and  against  his  race,  and  against  those  who  support  and 
encourage  him  to  rear  up  his  horn.  I  will  call  aloud, 
and  spare  not,  and  arouse  the  many  whose  love  hath 
waxed  cold,  and  the  multitude  who  care  for  none  of  these 
things.  There  shall  be  a  remnant  to  hsten  to  me  ;  and 
I  will  take  the  stick  of  Joseph,  which  was  in  the  hand  of 
Ephraim,  and  go  down  to  cleanse  this  place  of  witches 
and  sorcerers,  and  of  enchantments,  and  will  cry  and 
exhort,  saying — Will  you  plead  for  Baal  ? — will  you 
?erve  him  ?  Nay,  take  the  prophets  of  Baal — let  not  a 
man  escape." 

"  Master  Holdenough,  Master  Holdenough,"  said  Col- 
onel Everard,  with  much  impatience,  "  by  the  tale  your- 
self told  me,  you  have  exhorted  upon  that  text  once  too 
often  already." 

The  old  man  struck  his  palm  forcibly  against  his  fore- 
head, and  fell  back  into  a  chair  as  these  words  were  ut- 
tered, as  suddenly,  and  as  much  without  power  of  resist- 
ance, as  if  the  Colonel  had  fired  a  pistol  through  his  head. 
Instantly  regretting  the  reproach  which  he  had  suffered 
to  escape  him  in  his  impatience,  Everard  hastened  to 
apologize,  and  to  offer  every  conciliatory  excuse,  however 
inconsistent,  which  occurred  to  him  on  the  moment. 
But  the  old  m.an  was  too  deeply  affected — he  rejected  his 
hand,  lent  no  ear  to  what  he  said,  and  finally  started  up, 
saying  sternly,  "  You  have  abused  my  confidence,  sir — 
abused  it  vilely,  to  turn  it  into  my  own  reproach  :  had  I 
been  a  man  of  the  sword,  you  dared  not — But  enjoy  your 


WOODSTOCK. 


247 


triumph,  sir,  over  an  old  man,  and  your  father's  friend — 
strike  at  the  wound  his  imprudent  confidence  showed 
you." 

"  Nay,  my  worthy  and  excellent  friend,"  said  the 
Colonel 

"  Friend  !"  answered  the  old  man,  starting  up — "We 
are  foes,  sir — foes  now,  and  for  ever  !" 

So  saying,  and  starting  from  the  seat  into  which  he  had 
rather  fallen  than  thrown  himself,  he  ran  out  of  the  room 
with  a  precipitation  of  step  which  he  was  apt  to  use  upon 
occasions  of  irritable  feeling,  and  which  was  certainly 
more  eager  than  dignified,  especially  as  he  muttered  while 
he  ran,  and  seemed  as  if  he  were  keeping  up  his  own 
passion,  by  recounting  over  and  over  the  offence  which 
he  had  received. 

"  Soh  !"  said  Colonel  Everard,  "  and  there  was  not 
strife  enough  between  mine  uncle  and  the  people  of  Wood- 
stock already,  but  I  must  needs  increase  it,  by  chafing 
this  irritable  and  quick-tempered  old  man,eager^aslknew 
him  to  be  in  his  ideas  of  church  government,  and  stifi' in 
his  prejudices  respecting  all  who  dissent  from  him  !  The 
mob  of  Woodstock  will  rise  ;  for  though  he  would  not  get 
a  score  of  them  to  stand  by  him  in  any  honest  or  intelli- 
gible purpose,  yet  let  him  cry  havoc  and  destruction,  and 
I  will  w^arrant  he  has  followers  enow.  And  my  uncle  is 
equally  wildtand  unpersuadable.  For  the  value  of  all  the 
estate  he  ever  had,  he  would  not  allow  a  score  of  troop- 
ers to  be  quartered  in  the  house  for  defence  ;  and  if  he 
be  alone,  or  has  but  Joceline  to  stand  by  him,  he  will 
be  as  sure  to  fire  upon  those  who  come  to  attack  the 
Lodge,  as  if  he  had  a  hundred  men  in  garrison  ;  and 
then"what  can  chance  but  danger  and  bloodshed  ?" 

This  progress  of  melancholy  anticipation  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  return  of  Master  Holdenough,  who,  hurry- 
ing into  the  room,  with  the  same  precipitate  pace  at  which 
he  had  left  it,  ran  straight  up  to  the  Colonel,  and  said — 
"  Take  my  hand,  Markham — take  my  hand  hastily  ;  for 
the  old  Adam  is  whispering  at  my  heart,  that  it  is  a  dis- 
grace to  hold  it  extended  so  long." 


248  WOODSTOCK. 

"  Most  heartily  do  I  receive  your  hand,  my  venerable 
friend,"  said  Everard,  "  and  1  trust  in  sign  of  renewed 
amity." 

"  Surely,  surely — "  said  the  divine,  shaking  his  hand 
kindly  ;  "  thou  hast,  it  is  true,  spoken  bitterly  ;  but  thou 
hast  spoken  truth  in  good  time  ;  and  I  think — though 
your  words  were  severe — with  a  good  and  kindly  purpose. 
Verily,  and  of  a  truth,  it  were  sinful  in  me  again  to  be 
hasty  in  provoking  violence,  remembering  that  which  you 
have  upbraided  me  with " 

"  Forgive  me,  good  Master  Holdenough,"  said  Colo- 
nel Everard,  "  it  was  a  hasty  word  ;  I  meant  not  in 
serious  earnest  to  uphraid.^"* 

"  Peace,  I  pray  you,  peace,"  said  the  divine  ;  "  I 
say,  the  allusion  to  that  which  you  have  most  jrtstly  up- 
braided me  with — though  the  charge  aroused  the  gall  of 
the  Old  Man  within  me,  the  inward  tempter  being  ever 
on  the  watch  to  bring  us  to  his  lure — ought,  instead  of 
being  resented,  to  have  been  acknowledged  by  me  as  a 
favour,  for  so  are  the  wounds  of  a  friend  termed  faith- 
ful. And  surely  I,  who  have  by  one  unhappy  exhorta- 
tion to  battle  and  strife,  sent  the  living  to  the  dead — and 
I  fear  brought  back  even  the  dead  among  the  living — 
should  now  study  peace  and  good  will,  and  reconciliation 
of  difference,  leaving  punishment  to  the  Great  Being 
whose  laws  are  broken,  and  vengeance  to  Him  who  hath 
said,  I  will  repay  it." 

The  old  man's  mortified  features  lighted  up  with  a 
humble  confidence  as  he  made  this  acknowledgment  ; 
and  Colonel  Everard,  who  knew  the  constitutional  infir- 
mities, and  the  early  prejudices  of  professional  conse- 
quence and  exclusive  party  opinion,  which  he  must  have 
s:ibdued  ere  arriving  at  such  a  tone  of  candour,  hastened 
to  express  his  admiration  of  his  Christian  charity,  mingled 
with  reproaches  on  himself  for  having  so  deeply  injured 
his  feelings. 

"  Think  not  of  it — think  not  of  it,  excellent  young 
man,"  said  Holdenough  ;  "  we  have  both  erred — I  in 
suffering  my  zeal  to  outrun  my  charity,  you,  perhaps,  in 


WOODSTOCK.  249 

pressing  hard  oR  an  old  and  peevish  man,  who  had  so 
lately  poured  out  his  sufferings  into  your  friendly  bosom. 
Be  it  all  forgotten.  Let  your  friends — if  they  are  not 
deterred  by  what  has  happened  at  this  manor  of  Wood- 
stock— resume  their  habitation  as  soon  as  they  will.  If 
they  can  protect  themselves  against  the  powers  of  the  air, 
beheve  me,  that  if  1  can  prevent  it  by  aught  in  my  power, 
they  shall  have  no  annoyance  from  earthly  neighbours  ; 
and  assure  yourself,  good  sir,  that  my  voice  is  slill  worth 
something  with  the  worthy  Mayor,  and  the  good  Alder- 
men, and  the  better  sort  of  house-keepers  up  yonder  in 
the  town,  although  the  lower  classes  are  blown  about  with 
every  wind  of  doctrine.  And  yet  farther  be  assured, 
Colonel,  that  should  your  mother's  brother,  or  any  of  his 
family,  learn  that  they  have  taken  up  a  rash  bargain  in 
returning  to  this  unhappy  and  unhallowed  house,  or  should 
they  find  any  qualms  in  their  own  hearts  and  consciences 
which  require  a  ghostly  comforter,  Nehemiah  Hold- 
enough  will  be  as  much  at  their  tcommand  by  night  or 
day,  as  if  they  had  been  bred  up  within  the  holy  pale  of 
the  church  in  which  he  is  an  unworthy  minister  ;  and 
neither  the  awe  of  what  is  fearful  to  be  seen  within  these 
walls,  nor  his  knowledge  of  their  blinded  and  carnal  state, 
as  bred  up  under  a  prelatic  dispensation,  shall  prevent 
him  doing  what  lies  in  his  poor  abilities  for  their  protec- 
tion and  edification." 

"  I  feel  all  the  force  of  your  kindness,  reverend  sir," 
said  Colonel  Everard,  •'  but  I  do  not  think  it  likely  that 
my  uncle  will  give  you  trouble  on  either  score.  He  is  a 
man  much  accustomed  to  be  his  own  protector  in  temporal 
danger,  and  in  spiritual  doubts  to  trust  to  his  own  prayers 
and  those  of  his  Church." 

"  I  trust  I  have  not  been  superfluous  in  offering  mine 
assistance,"  said  the  old  man,  something  jealous  that  his 
proffered  spiritual  aid  had  been  held  rather  intrusive. 
"  I  ask  pardon  if  that  is  the  case — 1  humbly  ask  pardon 
— T  would  not  willingly  be  superfluous." 

The  Colonel  hastened  to  appease  this  new  alarm  of  the 
watchful  jealousy  of  his  consequence,  which,  joined  with 


250  WOODSTOCK. 

a  natural  heat  of  temper  which  he  coulctnot  always  sub- 
due, were  the  good  man's  only  faults. 

They  had  regained  their  former  friendly  footing,  when 
Roger  Wildrake  returned  from  the  hut  of  Joceline,  and 
whispered  his  master  that  his  embassy  had  been  success- 
ful. The  Colonel  then  addressed  the  divine,  and  in- 
formed him,  that  as  the  Commissioners  had  already  given 
up  Woodstock,  and  as  his  uncle,  Sir  Henry  Lee,  pro- 
posed to  return  to  the  Lodge  about  noon,  he  would,  if 
his  reverence  pleased,  attend  him  up  to  the  borough. 

"  Will  you  not  tarry,"  said  the  reverend  man,  with 
something  like  inquisitive  apprehension  in  his  voice,  "to 
welcome  your  relatives  upon  their  return  to  this  their 
house  .'"' 

"  No,  my  good  friend,"  said  Colonel  Everard  ;  "  the 
part  which  I  have  taken  in  these  unhappy  broils — per- 
haps also  the  mode  of  worship  in  which  I  have  been  ed- 
ucated— have  so  prejudiced  me  in  mine  uncle's  opinion, 
that  I  must  be  for  some  time  a  stranger  to  his  house  and 
family." 

"  Indeed  !  I  rejoice  to  hear  it,  with  all  my  heart  and 
soul,"  said  the  divine.  "  Excuse  my  frankness — I  do 
indeed  rejoice, — 1  had  thought — no  matter  what  1  had 
thought, — I  would  not  again  give  offence.  But  truly 
though  the  maiden  hath  a  pleasant  feature,  and  he,  as  all 
men  say,  is  in  human  things  unexceptionable,— yet — but  I 
give  you  pain — in  sooth  I  will  say  no  more  unless  you 
ask  my  sincere  and  unprejudiced  advice,  which  you  shall 
command,  but  which  I  will  not  press  on  you  superfluously. 
Wend  we  to  the  borough  together — the  pleasant  solitude 
of  the  forest  may  dispose  us  to  open  our  hearts  to  each 
other." 

They  did  walk  up  to  the  little  town  in  company,  and, 
somewhat  to  Master  Holdenough's  surprise,  the  Colonel, 
though  they  talked  on  various  subjects,  did  not  request 
of  him  any  ghostly  advice  on  the  subject  of  his  love  to  his 
fair  cousin,  while,  greatly  beyond  the  expectation  of  the 
soldier,  the  clergyman  kept  his  word,  and,  in  his  own 


WOODSTOCK.  251 

phrase,  was  not  so   superfluous  as  to  offer  upon  so  deli- 
cate a  point  his  unasked  counsel. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Then  are  the  harpies  gone— Yet  ere  we  perch 
Where  such  foul  birds  have  roosted,  let  us  cleanse 
The  foul  obscenity  they've  left  behind  them. 

Agamemnon. 

The  embassy  of  Wildrake  had  been  successful, 
chiefly  through  the  mediation  of  the  Episcopal  divine, 
whom  we  formerly  found  acting  in  the  character  of  chap- 
lain to  the  family,  and  whose  voice  had  great  influence  on 
many  accounts  with  its  master. 

A  little  before  high  noon.  Sir  Henry  Lee,  with  his 
small  household  was  again  in  unchallenged  possession  of 
their  old  apartments  at  the  Lodge  of  Woodstock  ;  and 
the  combined  exertions  of  Joceline  Joliffe,  of  Phoebe, 
and  of  old  Joan,  w^ere  employed  in  putting  to  rights  what 
the  late  intruders  had  left  in  great  disorder. 

Sir  Henry  Lee  had,  like  all  persons  of  quality  of  that 
period,  a  love  of  order  amounting  to  precision,  and  felt, 
like  a  fine  lady  whose  dress  has  been  disordered  in  a 
crowed,  insulted  and  humiliated  by  the  rude  confusion 
into  which  his  household  goods  had  been  thrown,  and 
impatient  till  his  mansion  had  been  purified  from  all 
marks  of  intrusion.  In  his  anger  he  uttered  more  orders 
than  the  limited  number  of  his  domestics  were  likely  to 
find  time  or  hands  to  execute.  "  The  villains  have  left 
such  sulphureous  steams  behind  them,  too,"  said  the  old 
knight,  "  as  if  old  David  Leslie  and  the  whole  Scotch 
army  had  quartered  among  them." 

"  It  may  be  near  as  bad,"  said  Joceline,  "  for  men 
say,  for  certain,  it  was  the  devil  came  down  bodily  among 
them,  and  made  them  troop  off." 


252  WOODSTOCK. 

«  Then,"  said  the  Knight,  "  is  the  Prince  of  Darkness 
a  gentleman,  as  old  Will  Shakspeare  says.  He  never  in- 
terferes with  those  of  his  own  coat,  for  the  Lees  have 
been  here,  father  and  son,  these  five  hundred  years, 
without  disquiet ;  and  no  sooner  came  these  misbegotten 
churls,  than  he  plays  his  own  part  among  them." 

"  Well,  one  thing  he  and  they  have  left  us,"  said  Jo- 
liffe,  "  which  we  may  thank  them  for;  and  that  is,  such 
a  well-filled  larder  and  buttery  as  has  been  seldom  seen 
in  Woodstock  Lodge  this  many  a  day  ; — carcasses  of 
mutton,  large  rounds  of  beef,  barrels  of  confectioners' 
ware,  pipes  and  runlets  of  sack,  muscadine,  ale,  and 
what  not.  We  shall  have  a  royal  time  on't  through  half 
the  winter  ;  and  Joan  must  get  to  salting  and  pickling 
presently." 

*'  Out,  villain  !"  said  the  Knight  ;  "  are  we  to  feed 
on  the  fragments  of  such  scum  of  the  earth  as  these  ? — 
Cast  them  forth  instantly  !— fNay,"  checking  himself, 
"  that  were  a  sin  ;  but  give  them  to  the  poor,  or  see  them 
sent  to  the  owners. — And,  hark  ye,  I  will  none  of  their 
strong  liquors — I  would  rather  drink  like  a  hermit  all  my 
life,  than  seem  to  pledge  scoundrels  as  these  in  their 
leavings,  like  a  miserable  drawer,  who  drains  off  the  ends 
of  the  bottles  after  the  guests  have  paid  their  reckoning, 
and  gone  off. — And,  hark  ye,  I  will  taste  no  water  from 
the  cistern  out  of  which  these  slaves  have  been  serving 
themselves — fetch  me  down  a  pitcher  from  Rosamond's 
spring." 

Alice  heard  this  injunction,  and  well  guessing  there  was 
enough  for  the  other  members  of  the  family  to  do,  she 
quietly  took  a  small  pitcher,  and  flinging  a  cloak  around 
her,  walked  out  in  person  to  procure  Sir  Henry  the  water 
which  he  desired.  Meantime,  Joceline  said,  with  some 
hesitation,  "that  there  was  a  man  still  remained,  belong- 
ing to  the  party  of  these  strangers,  who  was  directing 
about  the  removal  of  some  trunks  and  mails  which  be- 
longed to  the  Commissioners,  and  who  could  receive  his 
honour's  commands  about  the  provisions." 


WOODSTOCK.  253 

*'  Let  him  come  hither." — (The  dialogue  was  held  in 
the  hail) — "  Wliy  do  you  hesitate,  and  drumble  in  that 
manner  ?" 

*' Only,  sir,"  said  Joceline,  "only  perhaps  your  hon- 
our might  not  wish  to  see  him,  being  the  same  who,  on 
the  night  before  last " 

He  paused. 

"  Sent  my  rapier  a  hawking  ihroti2:h  the  firmament, 
thou  would'st  say  ? — ^Vhy,  when  did  I  take  spleen  at  a 
man  for  standing  liis  ground  against  me  f — Roundhead  as 
he  is,  man,  I  like  him  the  belter  of  that,  not  the  worse. 
I  hunger  and  tlnist  to  have  another  turn  with  him.  I 
have  thought  on  his  passado  ever  since,  and  I  believe, 
were  it  to  try  again.  1  know  a  feat  would  control  it. — 
Fetch  him  directly." 

Trusty  Tom  kins  w'as  presently  ushered  in,  bearing 
himself  with  an  iron  gravity,  which  neither  the  terrors  of 
the  preceding  night,  nor  the  dignified  demeanour  of  the 
high-born  personage  before  whom  he  stood,  were  able 
for  an  instant  to  overcome. 

*'  How  now,  good  fellow  .'^"  said  Sir  Henry  ;  "  I  would 
fain  see  something  more  of  thy  fence,  which  baffled  me 
the  other  evening — but  truly,  1  think  the  light  was  some- 
what too  faint  for  my  old  eyes — Take  a  foil,  man — 1  walk 
herein  the  hall,  as  Hamlet  says  ;  and  'tis  the  bieathing- 
time  of  day  with  me — Take  a  foil  then  in  thy  hand." 

*'  Since  it  is  your  worship's  desire,"  said  the  steward, 
lettins;  fall  his  long  cloak,  and  taking  the  foil  in  his  hand. 

"Now,"  said  the  Knight,  "  if  your  fitness  speaks,  mine 
is  ready.  Methinks  the  very  stepping  on  this  same  old 
pavement  hath  charmed  away  the  gout  which  threatened 
me. — Sa — sa — I  tread  as  firm  as  a  game-cock." 

They  began  the  play  with  great  spirit  ;  and  whether 
the  old  knight  really  fought  more  coolly  with  the  blunt 
than  with  the  sharp  weapon,  or  whether  the  stew ard  gave 
him  some  grains  of  advantage  in  this  merely  sportive 
encounter,  it  is  certain  Sir  Henry  l)ad  the  better  in  the 
assault.  His  success  put  him  into  excellent  humour. 
22     VOL.  I. 


254  WOODSTOCK. 

"  There,"  said  he,  "  I  found  your  trick, — nay,  you 
cheat  me  not  twice  the  same  way — There  was  a  very  pal- 
pable hit — Why,  had  J  had  but  light  enough  the  other 
night — But  it  skills  not  speaking  of  it — Here  we  leave 
off  ;  I  must  not  fight,  as  we  unwise  cavaliers  did  with  you 
roundhead  rascals,  beating  you  so  often  that  we  taught 
you  to  beat  us  at  last. — And  good  now,  tell  me  why  you 
are  leaving  your  larder  so  full  here  f — Do  you  think  I  or 
my  family  can  use  broken  victuals  ? — What,  have  you 
no  better  employment  for  your  rounds  of  sequestrated 
beef  than  to  leave  them  behind  you  when  you  shift  your 
quarters  ?" 

"  So  please  your  honour,"  said  Tomkins,  "  it  may  be 
that  you  desire  not  the  flesh  of  beeves,  of  rams,  or  of 
goats.  Nevertheless,  when  you  know  that  the  provisions 
were  provided  and  paid  for  out  of  your  own  rents  and 
stock  at  Ditchley,  sequestrated  to  the  use  of  the  state 
more  than  a  year  since,  it  may  be  you  will  have  less 
scruple  to  use  them  for  your  own  behoof." 

"  Rest  assured  that  1  shall,"  said  Sir  Henry  ;  "  and 
glad  you  have  helped  me  to  a  share  of  mine  own.  Cer- 
tainly I  was  an  ass  to  suspect  your  masters  of  subsisting, 
save  at  honest  men's  expense." 

"  And  as  for  the  rumps  of  beeves,"  continued  Tom- 
kins,  with  the  same  solemnity,  "  there  is  a  rum.p  at  West- 
minster, which  will  stand  us  of  the  army  much  hacking 
and  hewing  yet,  ere  it  is  discussed  to  our  mind." 

Sir  Henry  paused,  as  if  to  consider  what  was  the  mean- 
ing of  this  inuendo  ;  for  he  was  not  a  person  of  very 
quick  apprehension.  But  having  at  length  caught  the 
meaning  of  it,  he  burst  into  an  explosion  of  louder 
laughter  than  Joceline  had  seen  him  indulge  in  for  a  good 
while. 

"  Right,  knave,"  he  said,  "  I  taste  thy  jest—It  is  the 
very  moral  of  the  puppet-show.  Faustus  raised  the 
(Jevil,  as  the  Parliament  raised  the  army — and  then,  as 
(be  devil  flies  away  with  Faustus,  so  will  the  army  fly 
away  with  the  Parliament — or  the  rump,  as  thou  call'stit, 
or  sitting  part  of  the  so-called  Parhament. — And  then. 


AVOOD  STOCK.  255 

look  yon,  friend,  the  very  devil  of  all  hatli  my  willing 
consent  to  fly  away  with  the  army  in  its  turn,  from  tii^ 
highest  general  down  to  the  lowest  drum-boy. — Nay, 
never  look  fierce  for  the  matter  ;  renieinber  there  is 
daylight  enough  now  for  a  game  at  sharps." 

Trusty  Tomkins  appeared  to  think  it  best  to  suppress 
his  displeasure  ;  and  observing,  that  the  wains  were  ready 
to  transport  the  Commissioners'  property  to  the  borough, 
took  a  grave  leave  of  Sir  Henry  Lee. 

Meantime  the  old  man  continued  to  pace  his  recover- 
ed hall,  rubbing  his  hands,  and  evincing  greater  signs  of 
glee  than  he  had  shown  since  the  fatal  30th  of  January. 

"  Here  we  are  again  in  the  old  frank,  Joliffe — well 
victualled  too. — How  the  knave  solved  my  point  of  con- 
science ! — the  dullest  of  them  is  a  special  casuist  where 
the  question  concerns  profit.  Look  out  if  there  are  not 
some  of  our  own  ragged  regiment  lurking  about,  to  whom 
a  bellyfull  would  be  a  God-send,  Joceline — Then  his 
fence,  Joceline — though  the  fellow  foins  well — very  suffi- 
cient well — But  thou  saw'st  how  I  dealt  with  him  when  I 
had  fitting  light,  Joceline." 

"  Ay,  and  so  your  honour  did,"  said  Joceline.  "You 
taught  him  to  know  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  from  Saunders 
Gardner.  I'll  warrant  him,  he  will  not  wish  to  come  un- 
der your  honour's  thumb  again." 

"  Why,  I  am  waxing  old,"  said  Sir  Henry  ;  "  but 
skill  will  not  rust  through  age,  though  sinews  must  stiffen. 
But  my  age  is  like  a  lusty  winter,  as  old  Will  says — 
frosty  but  kindly — And  wnat  if,  old  as  we  are,  we  live  to 
see  better  days  yet !  I  promise  thee,  Joceline,  I  love  this 
jarring  betwixt  the  rogues  of  the  board  and  the  rogues 
of  the  sword.  When  thieves  quarrel,  true  men  have  a 
chance  of  coming  by  their  own." 

Thus  triumphed  the  old  cavalier,  in  the  treble  glory  of 
having  recovered  his  dw^elling — regained,  as  he  thought, 
his  character  as  a  man  of  fence,  and  finally  discovered 
some  prospect  of  a  change  of  times,  in  which  he  was 
not  without  hopes  that  something  might  turn  up  for  thp 
royal  interest. 


256 


WOODSTOCK. 


Meanwhile,  Alice,  with  a  prouder  and  a  lighter  heart 
than  had  danced  in  her  bosom  for  several  days,  went 
forth  with  a  gaiety  to  which  she  of  late  had  been  a  stran- 
ger, to  contribute  her  assistance  to  the  regulation  and 
supply  of  the  household,  by  bringing  the  fresh  water  want- 
ed from  fair  Rosamond's  well. 

Perhaps  she  remembered,  that  when  she  was  but  a 
girl,  her  cousin  Markham  used,  among  others,  to  make 
her  perform  that  duty,  as  presenting  the  character  of  some 
captive  Tjojan  princess,  condemned  by  her  situation  to 
draw  the  waters  from  some  Grecian  spring,  for  the  use  of 
the  proud  victor. — At  any  rate,  she  certainly  joyed  to  see 
her  father  reinstated  in  his  ancient  habitation  ;  and  the 
joy  was  not  the  less  sincere,  that  she  knew  their  return 
to  Woodstock  had  been  procured  by  means  of  her  cousin, 
and  that  even  in  her  father's  prejudiced  eyes,  Everard 
had  been  in  some  degree  exculpated  of  the  accusations 
the  old  knight  had  brought  against  him  ;  and  that  if  a 
reconciliation  had  not  yet  taken  place,  the  preliminaries 
had  been  established  on  which  such  a  desirable  conclusion 
might  easily  be  founded.  It  was  like  the  commencement 
of  a  bridge,  when  the  foundation  is  securely  laid,  and 
the  piers  raised  above  the  influence  of  the  torrent  ;  the 
throwing  of  the  arches  may  be  accomplished  in  a  subse- 
quent season. 

The  doubtful  fate  of  her  only  brother  might  have 
clouded  even  this  momentary  gleam  of  sunshine  ;  but 
Alice  had  been  bred  up  during  tl)e  close  and  frequent 
contests  of  civil  war,  and  had  acquired  the  habit  of  hop- 
ing in  behalf  of  those  dear  to  her,  until  hope  was  lost. 
In  the  present  case,  all  reports  seemed  to  assure  her  of 
her  brotlier's  safety. 

Besides  these  causes  for  gaiety,  Alice  Lee  had  the 
pleasing  feeling  that  she  was  restored  to  the  habitation 
and  the  haunts  of  her  childhood,  from  which  she  had 
not  departed  without  much  pain,  the  more  felt,  perhaps, 
because  suppressed,  in  order  to  avoid  irritating  her  fath- 
er's sense  of  his  misfortune.  Finally,  she  enjoyed  for 
the  instant  the  gleam  of  self-satisfaction  by  which  we  see 


WOODSTOCK 


251 


the  young  and  well-disposed  so  often  animated,  when 
they  can  be,  in  common  phrase,  helpful  to  those  vvhoni 
they  love,  and  perform  at  the  moment  of  need  some  of 
those  httle  domestic  tasks,  which  age  receives  with  so 
much  pleasure  from  the  dutiful  hands  of  youth.  So  that, 
altogether,  as  she  hasted  through  the  remains  and  vesti- 
ges of  a  wilderness  already  mentioned,  and  from  thence 
about  a  bow^-shot  into  the  Park,  to  bring  a  pitcher  of 
v%-ater  from  Rosamond's  spring,  Alice  Lee,  her  features 
enlivened  and  her  complexion  a  little  raised  by  the  ex- 
ercise, had,  for  the  moment,  regained  the  gay  and  brilliant 
vivacity  of  expression  which  had  been  the  characteristic 
of  her  beauty  in  her  earlier  and  happier  days. 

This  fountain  of  old  memory  had  been  once  adorned 
with  architectural  ornaments  in  the  style  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  chiefly  relating  to  ancient  mythology.  All  these 
w^ere  now  wasted  and  overthrown,  and  existed  only  as 
moss-covered  ruins;  while  the  living  spring,  continued  to 
furnish  its  daily  treasures,  unrivalled  in  purity,  though  the 
quantity  was  small,  gushing  out  amid  disjointed  stones, 
and  bubbling  through  fragments  of  ancient  sculpture. 

With  a  light  step  and  a  laughing  brow  the  young  Lady 
of  Lee  was  approaching  the  fountain,  usually  so  solitary, 
when  she  paused  on  beliolding  some  one  seated  beside 
it.  She  proceeded,  however,  with  confidence,  though 
with  a  step  something  less  gay,  when  sbe  observed  that 
the  person  w'as  a  female  ; — some  menial  perhaps  from 
the  town,  whom  a  fanciful  mistress  occasionally  despatch- 
ed for  the  water  of  a  spring,  supposed  to  be  peculiarl\' 
pure,  or  some  aged  woman,  who  made  a  little  trade  by 
carrying  it  to  tbe  better  sort  of  families,  and  selling  it  for 
a  trifle.     There  was  no  cause,  therefore,  for  apprehension. 

Yet  the  terrors  of  the  times  were  so  great,  that  Alice 
did  not  even  see  a  stranger  of  her  own  sex  without  some 
apprehension.  Denaturalized  women  had  as  usual  fol- 
lowed tlie  camps  of  both  armies  duiing  the  Civil  War  ', 
who  on  the  one  side  with  open  j)rofligacy  and  profanity, 
on  the  other  uiih  the  fraud ful  tone  of  fanaticism  or  hypo- 
22*     VOL.   I. 


258 


WOODSTOCK. 


crisy,  exercised  nearly  in  like  degree  their  talents  for 
murder  or  plunder.  But  it  was  broad  daylight,  the  dis- 
tance from  the  Lodge  was  but  trifling,  and  though  a  little 
alarmed  at  seeing  a  stranger  where  she  expected  deep 
solitude,  the  daughter  of  the  haughty  old  Knight  had  too 
much  of  the  lion  about  her,  to  fear  without  some  de- 
termined and  decided  cause. 

Alice  walked,  therefore,  gravely  on  towards  the  fount, 
and  composed  her  looks  as  she  took  a  hasty  glance  of  the 
female  who  was  seated  there,  and  addressed  herself  to 
her  task  of  filling  her  pitcher. 

The  woman,  whose  presence  had  surprised  and  some- 
what startled  Alice  Lee,  was  a  person  of  the  lower  rank, 
whose  red  cloak,  russet  kirtle,  handkerchief  trimmed  with 
Coventry  blue,  and  a  coarse  steeple  hat,  could  not  indi- 
cate at  best  any  thing  higher  than  the  wife  of  a  small 
farmer,  or,  perliaps,  the  helpmate  of  a  bailiff  or  hind. 
It  was  well  if  she  proved  nothing  worse.  Her  clothes, 
indeed,  were  of  good  materials  ;  but,  what  the  female 
eye  discerns  with  half  a  glance,  they  were  indifferently 
adjusted  and  put  on.  This  looked  as  if  they  did  not 
belong  to  the  person  by  whom  they  w^ere  worn,  but  were 
articles  of  which  she  had  become  the  mistress  by  some 
accident,  if  not  by  some  successful  robbery.  Her  size, 
too,  as  did  not  escape  Alice,  even  in  the  short  perusal  she 
afforded  the  stranger,  was  unusual  ;  her  features  swarthy 
and  singularly  harsh,  and  her  manner  altogether  unpropi- 
tious.  The  young  lady  almost  wished,  as  she  stooped 
to  fill  her  pitcher,  that  she  had  rather  turned  back,  and 
sent  Joceline  on  the  errand  ;  but  repentance  was  too  late 
now,  and  she  had  only  to  disguise  as  well  as  she  could  her 
unpleasant  feelings. 

"  The  blessings  of  this  bright  day  to  one  as  bright  as 
it  is,"  said  the  stranger,  with  no  unfriendly,  though  a 
harsh  voice. 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  Alice  in  reply  ;  and  continued  to 
fill  her  pitcl^er  busily,  by  assistance  of  an  iron  bowl  which 
remained  still  chained  to  one  of  the  stones  beside  the 
fountain. 


WOODSTOCK.  259 

"  Perhaps,  my  pretty  maiden,  if  you  would  acceot 
my  help,  your  work  would  be  sooner  done,"  said  the 
stranger. 

"  1  thank  you,"  said  Alice  ;  "  but  had  I  needed  assist- 
ance, 1  could  have  brought  those  with  me  who  had  ren- 
dered it." 

"  1  do  not  doubt  of  that,  my  pretty  maiden,"  answer- 
ed the  female  ;  "  there  are  too  many  lads  in  Woodstock 
with  eyes  in  their  heads — No  doubt  you  could  have 
brought  with  you  any  one  of  them  who  looked  on  you. 
if  you  had  listed." 

Alice  rephed  not  a  syllable,  for  she  did  not  like  the 
treedom  used  by  the  speaker,  and  was  desirous  to  break 
off  the  conversation. 

'^  Are  you  offended,  my  pretty  mistress  .^"  said  the 
stranger  ;  "  that  uas  far  from  my  purpose. — 1  will  put 
my  question  otherwise — Are  the  good  dames  of  Wood- 
stock so  careless  of  their  pretty  daughters  as  to  let  the 
flower  of  them  all  wander  about  the  wild  chase  without 
a  mother,  or  a  somebody  to  prevent  the  fox  from  running 
away  with  the  lamb  ^ — that  carelessness,  methinks,  shows 
small  kindness." 

"  Content  yourself,  good  woman,  I  am  not  far  fiom 
protection  and  assistance,"  said  Alice,  who  liked  less 
and   less  the  effrontery  of  her  new  acquaintance. 

"  Alas  !  my  pretty  maiden,"  said  the  stranger,  patting 
with  her  large  and  hard  hand  the  head  which  Alice  had 
kept  bended  down  towards  the  water  whicli  she  was  lav- 
ing, "  it  would  be  difficult  to  hear  such  a  pipe  as  yours 
at  the  town  of  Woodstock,  scream  as  loud  as  you  would." 

Alice  shook  the  woman's  hand  angrily  off,  took  up  her 
pitcher,  though  not  above  half  full,  and  as  she  saw  the 
stranger  rise  at  the  same  time,  said,  not  without  fear 
doubtless,  but  with  a  natural  feeling  of  resentment  and 
dignity,  *'  1  have  no  reason  to  make  my  cries  heard  as 
far  as  Woodstock  ;  were  there  occasion  for  my  crying 
for  help  at  all,  it  is  nearer  at  hand  if  I  need  it." 

She  spoke  not  without  a  warrant ;  for,  at  the  moment, 
broke  through  the  Lushes,  and  stood  by  her  side,  the  no- 


260  WOODSTOCK. 

ble  liound  Bevis  ;  fixing  on  the  stranger  his  eyes  that 
glanced  fire,  raising  every  hair  on  his  gallant  mane  as 
upright  as  the  bristles  of  a  wild  boar  when  hard  pressed, 
grinning  till  a  case  of  teeth,  which  would  have  matched 
those  of  any  wolf  in  Russia,  were  displayed  in  full  array, 
and,  without  either  barking  or  springing,  seeming,  by  his 
low  determined  growl,  to  await  but  the  signal  for  dashing 
at  the  female,  whom  he  plainly  considered  as  a  suspicious 
person. 

But  the  stranger  was  undaunted.  "My  pretty  maid- 
en," she  said,  "you  have  indeed  a  formidable  guardian 
there,  where  cocknej^s  or  bumpkins  are  concerned  ;  but 
we  who  have  been  at  the  wars  know  spells  for  taming 
such  furious  dragons ;  and  therefore  let  not  your  four- 
footed  protector  go  loose  on  me,  for  he  is  a  noble  animal, 
and  nothing  but  self-defence  would  induce  me  to  do  him 
injury."  So  saying,  she  drew  a  pistol  from  her  bosom 
and  cocked  it — pointing  it  towards  the  dog,  as  if  appre- 
hensive that  he  would  spring  upon  her. 

"  Hold,  woman,  hold  !"  said  Alice  Lee  ;  "  the  dog 
will  not  do  you  harm. — Down,  Bevis,  couch  down — And 
ere  you  attempt  to  hurt  him,  know  he  is  the  favourite 
hound  of  Sir  Henry  Lee  of  Ditchley,  the  keeper  of 
Woodstock  Park,  who  would  severely  revenge  any  injury 
offered  to  him." 

"  And  you,  pretty  one,  are  the  old  knight's  house- 
keeper, doubtless  ?  1  have  often  lieard  the  Lees  have 
good  taste." 

"I  am  his  daughter,  good  woman." 

"  His  daughter  ! — I  was  blind — but  yet  it  is  true,  noth- 
ing less  perfect  could  answer  the  description  which  all 
the  world  has  given  of  Mistress  Alice  Lee.  I  trust  that 
my  folly  has  given  my  young  mistress  no  offence,  and  that 
she  w'ill  allow  me,  in  token  of  reconciliation,  to  fill  her 
pitcher,  and   carry  it  as  far  as  she  will  permit." 

"  As  you  will,  good  mother  ;  but  I  am  about  to  return 
instantly  to  tlie  Lod2;e,  to  which,  in  these  times,  1  cannot 
admit  strangers.  You  can  follow  me  no  farther  than  the 
verge  of  the  wilderness,  and  1  am  already  too  long  from 


WOODSTOCK.  261 

home  :  I  will  send  some  one  to  meet  and  relieve  you  pf 
the  pitcher."  So  saying,  she  turned  her  back,  with  a 
feeling  of  terror  which  she  could  hardly  account  for,  and 
began  to  walk  quickly  towards  the  Lodge,  thinking  thus  to 
get  rid  of  her  troublesoine  acquaintance. 

But  she  reckoned  without  her  host  ;  for  in  a  moment 
her  new  companion  was  by  her  side,  not  running,  indeed, 
but  walking  with  prodigious  long  unwomanly  strides,  which 
soon  brought  her  up  with  the  hurried  and  timid  steps  of 
the  fris;htened  maiden.  But  her  manner  was  more  re- 
spectful than  formerly,  though  her  voice  sounded  remark- 
ably harsh  and  disagreeable,  and  her  whole  appearance 
suggested  an  undefined,  and  yet  irresistible  feeling  of 
apprehension. 

"  Pardon  a  stranger,  lovely  Mistress  Alice,"  said  her 
persecutor,  "  that  was  not  capable  of  distinguishing  be- 
tween a  lady  of  your  high  quality  and  a  peasant  wench, 
and  who  spoke  to  you  with  a  degree  of  freedom,  ill-be- 
fitting your  rank,  certainly,  and  condition,  and  which,  I 
fear,  has  given  you  offence." 

"  No  offence  whatever,"  replied  Alice  ;  "  but,  good 
woman,  1  am  near  home,  and  can  excuse  your  farther 
company. — You  are  unknown  to  me." 

"  But  it  follows  not,"  said  the  stranger,  "that  your 
fortunes  may  not  be  known  to  me,  fair  Mistress  Alice. 
Look  on  my  swarthy  brow — England  breeds  none  such 
— and  in  the  lands  from  which  I  come,  the  sun  which 
blackens  our  complexion,  pours,  to  make  amends,  rays  of 
knowledge  into  our  brains,  which  are  denied  to  those  of 
your  lukewarm  climate.  Let  me  look  upon  your  pretty 
hand, — (attempting  to  possess  herself  of  it,) — and  1  pro- 
mise you,  you  shall  hear  what  will  please  you." 

"  I  hear  what  does  not  please  me,"  said  Alice  with 
dignity  ;  "  you  must  carry  your  tricks  of  fortime-telling 
and  palmistry  to  the  women  of  the  village — We  of  the 
gentry  hold  them  to  be  either  imposture  or  unlawful 
knowledge." 

"  Yet  you  would  fain  hear  of  a  certain  Colonel,  1  war- 
rant you,   whom    certa.ti    i  nhaj  py    circumstances  hw^ 


262  WOODSTOCK. 

separated  from  his  family  ;  you  would  give  better  than 
f;ilver  if  I  could  assure  you  that  you  would  see  him  in  a 
day  or  two — ay,  perhaps,  sooner." 

"  1  know  nothing  of  what  you  speak,  good  woman  ; 
if  you  want  alms,  there  is  a  piece  of  silver — it  is  all  1  have 
in  my  purse." 

"  It  were  a  pity  that  I  should  take  it,"  said  the  female  ; 
"and  yet  give  it  me — for  the  princess  in  the  fairy  tale 
must  ever  deserve,  by  her  generosity,  the  bounty  of  the 
benevolent  fairy  before  she  is  rewarded  by  her  pro- 
tection." 

"  Take  it — take  it — give  me  my  pitcher,"  said  Alice, 
"  and  begone,  yonder  comes  one  of  my  father's  servants. 
— What,  ho  ! — Joceline — Joceline  !" 

The  old  fortune-teller  hastily  dropped  something  into 
the  pitcher  as  she  restored  it  to  Alice  Lee,  and,  plying 
her  long  limbs,  disappeared  speedily  under  cover  of  the 
wood. 

Bevis  turned,  and  backed,  and  showed  some  inclina- 
tion to  harass  the  retreat  of  this  suspicious  person,  yet, 
as  if  uncertain,  ran  towards  JolifFe,  and  fawned  on  him, 
to  demand  his  advice  and  encouragement.  Joceline 
pacified  the  animal,  and,  coming  up  to  his  young  lady, 
asked  her,  with  surprise,  what  was  the  matter,  and  wheth- 
er she  had  been  f.ightened  ?  Alice  made  light  of  her 
alarm,  for  which,  indeed,  she  could  not  have  assigned  any 
very  competent  reason  ;  for  the  manners  of  the  woman, 
though  bold  and  intrusive,  were  not  menacing.  ,  She  only 
said  she  had  met  a  fortune-teller  by  Rosamond's  Well, 
and  had   some  difficulty  in  shaking  her  off. 

"  Ah,  the  gipsy  thief,"  said  Joceline,  "  how  well  she 
scented  there  was  food  in  the  pantry  ! — they  have  noses 
like  ravens  these  strollers.  Look  you,  Mistress  Alice, 
you  shall  not  see  a  raven  or  a  carrion-crow  in  all  the 
blue  sky  for  a  mile  round  you  ;  but  let  a  sheep  drop  sud- 
denly down  on  the  greensward,  and  before  the  poor  crea- 
ture's dead  you  shall  see  a  dozen  of  such  guests  croak- 
ing as  if  inviting  each  other  to  the  banquet. — Just  so  it 
is  with  these  sturdy  beg2;ars.     You  will  see  few  enou  h 


WOODSTOCK. 


263 


of  them  when  there's  nothing  to  give,  but  when  hougii's 
in  the  pot,  tliey  will  have  share  on't." 

"  You  are  so  proud  of  your  fresh  supply  of  provender," 
said  Alice,  "  that  you  suspect  all  ol  a  design  on't.  I 
do  not  think  this  woman  will  venture  near  your  kitchen, 
Joceline." 

"It  will  be  best  for  her  health,"  said  Joceline,  "lest 
I  give  her  a  ducking  for  digestion. — But  give  me  the 
pitcher,  JVJistress  Alice — meeter  J  bear  it  than  you. — 
How  now  ^  what  jingles  at  the  bottom  ?  have  you  lifted 
the  pebbles  as  well  as  the  water  .''" 

"  I  think  the  woman  dropped  something  into  the 
pitcher,"  said  Ahce. 

"  Nay  we  must  look  to  that,  for  it  is  like  to  be  a  charm, 
and  we  have  enough  of  the  devil's  ware  about  Woodstock 
already — we  will  not  spare  for  the  w  ater — 1  can  run  back 
and  fill  the  pitcher."  He  poured  out  the  water  upon  the 
grass,  and  at  the  bottom  of  the  pitcher  was  found  a  gold 
ring,  in  which  was  set  a  ruby,  appaiently  of  some  value. 

"  Nay,  if  this  be  not  enchantment, !  know  not  what  is," 
said  Joceline.  "  Truly,  Mistress  Alice,  I  think  you  had 
better  throw  away  this  gimcrack.  Such  gifts  from  such 
hands  are  a  kind  of  press- money  which  the  devil  uses 
for  enlisting  his  regiment  of  witches  ;  and  if  they  take 
but  so  much  as  a  bean  from  him,  they  tiecome  his  bond 
slaves  for  life — Ay,  you  look  at  the  gew-gaw,  but  to-mor- 
row you  will  find  a  lead  ring  and  a  common  pebble  in  its 
stead." 

"  Nay,  Joceline,  I  think  it  will  be  better  to  find  out  that 
dark-complexioned  woman,  and  return  to  her  what  seems 
of  some  value.  So,  cause  inquiry  to  be  made,  and  be 
sure  you  return  her  ring.  It  seems  too  valuable  to  be 
destroyed." 

"Umph  !  that  is  always  the  way  with  women,"  mur- 
mured Joceline.  "  You  will  never  get  the  best  of  them, 
but  she  is  willing  to  save  a  bit  of  finery. — Well,  INlistress 
Alice,  I  trust  that  you  are  too  young  and  too  pretty  to  be 
enlisted  in  a  regiment  of  witches." 


264  WOODSTOCK. 

"  I  shall  not  be  afraid  of  it  till  you  turn  conjuror,"  said 
Alice ;  "  so  hasten  to  the  well,  where  you  are  like  still 
to  find  the  woman,  and  let  her  know  that  Alice  Lee  de- 
sires none  of  her  gifts,  any  more  than  she  did  of  her 
society." 

So  saying,  the  young  lady  pursued  her  way  to  the 
Lodge,  while  Joceline  went  down  to  Rosamond's  Well 
to  execute  her  commission.  But  the  fortune-teller,  or 
whoever  she  might  be,  was  nowhere  to  be  found  ;  neith- 
er, finding  that  to  be  the  case,  did  Joceline  give  himself 
much  trouble,  in  tracking  her  farther. 

"  If  this  ring,  which  I  dare  say  the  jade  stole  some- 
where," said  the  under-keeper  to  himself,  "  be  worth  a 
few  nobles,  it  is  better  in  honest  hands  than  in  that  of 
vagabonds.  My  master  has  a  right  to  all  waifs  and 
strays,  and  certainly  such  a  ring,  in  possession  of  a  gipsy, 
must  be  a  waif.  So  I  shall  confiscate  it  without  scruple, 
and  apply  the  produce  to  the  support  of  Sir  Henry's 
household,  which  is  like  to  be  poor  enough.  Thank 
Heaven,  my  military  experience  has  taught  me  how  to 
carry  hooks  at  my  finger-ends — that  is  trooper's  law. 
Yet  hang  it,  after  all,  I  had  best  take  it  to  Mark  Everard 
and  ask  his  advice — I  hold  him  now  to  be  your  learned 
counsellor  in  law  where  Mistress  Alice's  affairs  are  con- 
cerned, and  my  learned  Doctor,  who  shall  be  nameless, 
for  such  as  concern  Church  and  State  and  Sir  Henry 
Lee — and  I'll  give  them  leave  to  give  mine  umbles  to  the 
kites  and  ravens  if  they  find  me  conferring  my  confi- 
dence where  it  is  not  safe." 


END    OF    VOLUME 


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